


Careless

by VanLudwig



Category: Naruto
Genre: Domestic Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mystery, Romance, Violence, emotionally stunted jounin, you know wassup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2018-10-27 00:58:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10798416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanLudwig/pseuds/VanLudwig
Summary: It could have been any number of things, really, that caused Hatake Kakashi to punch out the glass of Umino Iruka’s bedroom window at three in the morning and drag his half-dead carcass, blood pouring from his skin like sweat, across the ledge to collapse at the foot of the bed like a dog.





	1. Chapter 1

Maybe it was how exhausted he was that made him all the more likely to slip up. 

Maybe it was because it was so dark that he’d gotten turned around and ended up on the wrong side of town. 

Maybe it was the blood loss, long past the point of dangerous and entering into critical, that was blurring his vision hard enough for him to mistake this window for his. 

Maybe it was because he’d been spending more of his time here than at his own apartment nowadays, concealed in the leaves of the broad-leafed tree less than an arm’s length from the window sill of the little second story apartment. 

It could have been any number of things, really, that caused Hatake Kakashi to punch out the glass of Umino Iruka’s bedroom window at three in the morning and drag his half-dead carcass, blood pouring from his skin like sweat, across the ledge to collapse at the foot of the bed like a dog. Hatake Kakashi was not in a position to question his motive, nor was Umino Iruka, who awoke with silent, precise alarm and was poised to slit the man’s throat before he even recognized the characteristic shock of messy, silver hair and mismatched eyes, which had sprung open at the feeling of the cold steel against his skin. 

“Kakashi?” Iruka breathed the question, lowering his weapon in surprise.

Kakashi parted his lips to answer, blood trickling from his lips. He made no sound.

Limbs finally responding to the alarm signals in his brain, Iruka let his kunai loose, flinging it into the wall and scooping the other shinobi into his arms as best he could. The man was slick with sweat and blood and still armed to the teeth from whatever he’d been up against that night. Iruka felt kunai and shuriken pierce his skin as he took the other man’s weight and stood, hauling him from the room and into the bathroom, where he laid Kakashi down onto the bathmat and began stripping away his uniform.

Iruka’s brain had all but shut down when he saw the state Kakashi was in, his fingers responding to the muscle memory gained from years and years of being friends with the danger-prone ninja of the Village Hidden in the Leaves. He was often called upon to play nurse to his Jounin friends, too proud to go to the hospital and report to their leader that they’d been injured. Iruka didn’t bother with lectures, just sewed wounds, applied salves, and made them promise to be more careful. 

This, though. 

Iruka didn’t gasp when he finally laid Kakashi bare, black fabric drenched in red, cut to ribbons, and discarded in an oozing pile. He worked automatically, pushing his chakra into the largest wounds to stop the bleeding, nimble fingers flying over lacerated skin, stroking bruises with his chakra to ease some of the pain he knew Kakashi had to be feeling endless amounts of. It was incredibly tiring work, and Iruka didn’t have nearly enough chakra to deal with the entirety of Kakashi’s wounds, but these realities did not keep him from trying. 

He knew Kakashi had been on a mission. It was classified, so Iruka had only been allowed to process the summons to the Godaime’s office, but he hadn’t seen Kakashi hanging around in several weeks, so he knew it must have been serious. Iruka had missed Kakashi, in a way. It wasn’t like he enjoyed being bothered during his hours at the mission desk. Rather, Iruka genuinely resented the interruption from the very important work he’d been entrusted to do. Even so, Kakashi’s absence unsettled him, and after the end of the first week, Iruka even began to miss hearing his weird comments and the rambling stories he’d tell to the other ninja waiting to turn reports in. 

The air left Iruka’s lungs when he rolled Kakashi over onto his side. One long, jagged cut ran straight down his back, just missing his spine. Holy Lord, he was not prepared to deal with this. The muscles had been severed. Iruka’s vision spun and his stomach rolled at the ugly sight. Gritting his teeth and giving himself an extra chakra push, he ever-so-carefully set about re-attaching the muscles in Kakashi’s back, a process he knew basically nothing about, but that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered right now except Kakashi’s life, which was all of a sudden entirely in Iruka’s hands. 

Iruka tried not to allow himself to be nervous. It wouldn’t help him to acknowledge how unequipped he was to treat Kakashi’s injuries. In fact, it would probably only make it harder for him to focus his chakra if he began to doubt his ability. But he’d never treated wounds like this before. He had the theoretical knowledge, but the friends he’d treated over the years exercised some forms of common sense. They knew not to go to Iruka if their lives were in danger the way Kakashi’s was. Oh, God.

The cut through his back was incredibly slow going, but Iruka didn’t dare rush. He periodically doused the wound with sterilizing liquid, nervous about possible infection. When the cut was looking about as good as it was going to get, Iruka threaded a needle with shaking hands and began to close the skin.

Iruka didn’t even know why Kakashi had come to his house. He never had before. They weren’t friends. 

He turned Kakashi back over and paled as he realized that the cuts on his torso had reopened. The Chunin’s vision began to swim, and he realized he couldn’t keep this up. With a silent prayer in his heart that he would be quick enough, he pushed the last of his chakra into a Shadow Clone Jutsu and braced his hands against the floor as the room spun and swam and finally turned black.


	2. Chapter 2

When Iruka woke, it was in a hospital bed with sunlight beating down on him through an open window. He blinked several times before propping himself up. Or, at least, attempting to. Iruka was alarmed to find out his arms couldn’t quite support the weight of his torso, and that’s when he began to panic. Memories of last night swam in his head. Where was Kakashi? They weren’t in his house anymore. Had Sakura and Tsunade arrived in time? 

With effort, he managed to sit up in bed. He eyed the white tiles of the floor warily. He knew it was foolish to attempt to go look for Kakashi, chakra-depleted as he was, and that he should be resting, but the fear that had gripped his heart the moment he’d clapped eyes on Kakashi’s broken, bleeding form on his bathroom floor hadn’t left. Instead, the fear had settled in, curling around his windpipe tighter and tighter with every minute he was unaware of the Jounin’s status. 

“Hey!” he called, hoping someone would hear, “Anyone here?”

Footsteps in the hallway sounded before a tiny, blonde head peeked into his room. The person gave an audible “eep!” noise before disappearing, presumably to fetch his primary doctor. He only had to wait a few more seconds before Sakura rounded the corner, walking quickly up to her sensei and wrapping him up in a tight hug.

“Iruka-sensei,” she cooed, “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Iruka replied honestly, “Dead tired.”

“That stands to reason,” Sakura said, pulling out of the hug, “You depleted a massive amount of chakra. Which, speaking of, how come you never told me about your healing abilities?”

“What?” Iruka asked, confused. 

Her eyes bore into his in a way that slightly unnerved him. “Like I said, you depleted your chakra doing it, meaning your control wasn’t the best, but you did amazing work, Iruka-sensei. When Tsunade and I got there, the worst of it was already taken care of. The blood-loss was the biggest problem, but it would have been so much worse had you not intervened when you did. Kakashi-sensei was lucky you were there to help.”

Iruka swallowed audibly. “Does that mean he-? I mean, Kakashi, he’s-?” 

Sakura nodded, smiling kindly. “Kakashi-sensei is going to be fine. As soon as your clone made it to me, Tsunade and I had hands on him within a few minutes. We had to redo some of your work, of course, with the cut on his back, but he definitely would have been in a lot worse shape had it not been for you stabilizing him.”

Iruka slumped back down onto the bed, not realizing how much tension he had been holding in his muscles. Kakashi would be fine. He’d done it. 

“I’ve never seen anyone not trained by Tsunade or myself who could do the things you did, Iruka-sensei. How are you so skilled?” she asked.

Iruka laughed nervously. “Well, you know.”

Sakura eyed him suspiciously. “No, Iruka-sensi, that’s why I’m asking.”

“Don’t harass your patient, Sakura,” came the admonishing voice of Tsunade herself. She leaned against the doorway, frowning softly. 

“Don’t you want to know how Iruka was able to stabilize Kakashi-sensei?” Sakura pressed, casting her gaze over to Tsunade bashfully.

Tsunade shook her head. “He’s had a lot of practice. My Jounin think I don’t know when they come home injured and don’t report to a medic.” At this, she smiled at Iruka. “At least not a certified one.”

Iruka blushed deeply. “Forgive me if I’ve done anything wrong, Tsunade-sama, but I-”

“If you were doing it wrong, I wouldn’t have let you keep doing it,” she interrupted, shaking her head again, “And Kakashi wouldn’t be alive. Want to see him? He’s not awake, but he probably will be soon.”

Iruka nodded. “If I could.”

Tsunade let Iruka lean on her arm as she and Sakura led him down the hallway to a different room, to Kakashi’s room. The man was tucked up into a hospital bed, a heart monitor beeping steadily in time with his breaths. Iruka shuffled up to the foot of the bed, saying nothing. In truth, he was unsure of what to say. When he visited Naruto in the hospital, it was easier. Kakashi was a near-stranger to Iruka. He had no idea what was appropriate. Eventually, he settled on, “How did the surgery go?”

Tsunade crossed her arms underneath her breasts, her hip cocked against the doorway. “I won’t lie, it was still pretty bad. We had it under control the whole time, but Kakashi’s wounds weren’t pretty. He lost a lot of blood, and there were some… complications there,” Tsunade hesitated, but did not feel the need to clarify, “But nothing we weren’t equipped to handle. Most of his ribs were either bruised or broken, so that’s going to be trouble for him for a while, but there were no other major breaks. The only really strange thing is that his chakra levels were fine. Not completely full, mind you, but nowhere even approaching the depletion levels we expected from injuries like that.”

Iruka contemplated this, feeling slightly sick. “His mission report will reflect the reasoning for that, maybe?”

Tsunade nodded. “I’m hoping, although I wouldn’t make him write one right now,” she said with a wink. 

Iruka shook his head, not really feeling up to laughing at her joke. He took a seat in the chair next to the bed and put his head in his hands. 

Tsunade and Sakura both stared at him. 

He waved a hand at them dismissively. “I’m sorry. You’ve both done so well. I’m just so tired and… and worried.”

Sakura nodded sympathetically. “I should go check on my other patients, anyway. Please feel better, Iruka-sensei.”

When she’d left, Tsunade walked over and placed a hand on Iruka’s shoulder. “You did all you could, Iruka, and he’s going to be fine.” Then, she left too. 

Iruka looked over at Kakashi. He’d been stripped of all of his gear, including his mask, but either Sakura or Tsunade must have been good enough to replace it with a surgical face mask. Bandages covered the eye typically obscured by his forehead protector. His face looked ghostly pale. Iruka wondered what the rest of Kakashi’s body looked like underneath the covers, whether he was covered in bandages, whether he was still bleeding, if any of the bruising had gotten worse.

Iruka twitched violently when, without warning, a voice interrupted the silence. 

“It’s not that bad, is it Sensei?” Kakashi asked in a gravelly voice, one eye cracked to look at him. 

Iruka was on his feet, but he didn’t know what to do. His hands moved to the pockets of the hospital scrubs he’d been dressed in. “How do you feel, Kakashi-sensei?” he asked, feeling like an idiot for asking, but the formality had bubbled up in the absence of anything real to say.

“Oh, you know,” Kakashi replied, sounding oddly lighthearted, “Little of this, little of that. I understand I have you to thank for it being only a little and not a lot.”

Iruka blushed. “Well, I don’t know how much I actually did. Tsunade and Sakura say things, but I can’t imagine I did more than they did to help you.”

Kakashi hummed in thought for a few seconds. “Debatable,” he landed on, and from his tone, Iruka could tell he was smiling underneath the mask. 

“What happened, Kakashi?” Iruka asked, sitting back down in the chair.

Kakashi’s cheerful demeanour didn’t even flicker. “That’s sort of an unpleasant story. I wouldn’t want to subject you to it when there are far better things to be talking about. Besides, I’m sure you’ll get to read all about my exploits in my mission report, which I’m afraid won’t be filed on time.”

Iruka’s eyes darkened. “You honestly think I care about that?” His voice was charged with emotion. “Kakashi, you almost died on my bathroom floor, and I want to know why. Why me?”

Silence fell like a weight onto the room. 

Kakashi turned his head so he was facing the ceiling rather than Iruka. A long moment passed between them before he spoke. “I almost died because I was careless. I almost died in your bathroom because I hoped you would care.”

xxxXxxxXxxxXxxxXxxx

“Naruto, what do you know about Kakashi?”

Naruto looked up curiously from the styrofoam container of ramen he’d brought to the hospital to share with Iruka. It had been several hours since Iruka’s interaction with Kakashi, and he still didn’t understand.

“I know lots of things about Kakashi-sensei. You’re going to have to be more specific,” Naruto said. 

“I mean socially. Does he have many friends? I know he doesn’t have much in the way of family, right?” Iruka suggested, throwing out some ideas in the hope that Naruto would latch onto one, “Has he ever dated anyone, do you know? Any people close to him?”

I almost died because I was careless, Kakashi had said. I almost died in your bathroom because I hoped you would care, Kakashi had said. Iruka had no idea what that was supposed to mean. Leave it to a Jounin to be impossibly cryptic over something so important. Maybe he got injured a lot and was used to it, but Iruka did care, damn it! He cared and was worried, and he resented the callous tone with which Kakashi addressed him in the hospital, like it was one big joke to him. 

Naruto was making a thinking face. “Honestly, I really don’t think so. He’s like us, you know, no family, just friends, except I guess he just has the one friend, Gai-sensei, but, I mean, they don’t really hang out, you know?” Naruto babbled, his rambling tone indicating he had never given the topic much thought before. His frown increased. “I’ve seen him around other ninja, but none of them are ever too friendly with him, not like they are with everyone else. I think people are scared of him, honestly, and I don’t really blame them. Maybe Gai’s just the only one brave enough to try.”

“Don’t you think it’s weird, then, that he would come to me for help?” Iruka asked next. Once upon a time, he would have felt strange asking Naruto questions like this, but the boy was grown up now, not really a boy anymore, and he could be surprisingly insightful, usually when not trying too hard. 

“Not really,” Naruto replied with a shrug, “If I had gotten all messed up like he did from a mission, I’d want you to be there. I mean, I would’ve gone to a hospital, for sure, because, yikes, you know? But you make people feel safe, Iruka-sensei.” He began to gesture with his chopsticks in wide circles. “You’ve got this thing about you, you know? Like, a comforting thing, so like, people want to be around you all the time.”

“Eloquent, as always,” Iruka jabbed, snickering.

“Shut up, you know what I mean,” Naruto replied, defensive. 

Iruka laughed. “I know what you mean. I just thought it was weird that Kakashi came to me, is all.”

“Not to mention, wow, pressure much?”

Iruka’s eyes widened along with his smile. “Exactly!” He laughed again, relieved to finally be able to. “God, it was so much. I thought I was either going to kill him or myself.”

Naruto jabbed at Iruka with his chopsticks. “Kakashi-sensei shouldn’t have put you in that position like that.”

Iruka nodded. “Yes, he is very dumb.”

“But everything worked out, didn’t it?” Naruto asked facetiously. 

Iruka nodded again, snatching the ramen cup from Naruto so that he could at least have a little before his friend finished it all. 

Naruto’s face once again turned thoughtful. “Although, Iruka-sensei, I’ve been wondering. How come you didn’t send for Sakura right away? You said you used the last of your energy to send a clone to find her. Why not do that first and save yourself the trouble of having to poke around in Kakashi’s guts?”

Iruka scrunched up his face. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Still.”

Iruka leaned back into the pillow of his hospital bed. “I-,” he stuttered, “I really don’t know, honestly. It just didn’t occur to me as an option. Like, I felt like I needed to help and not just send for help. Does that make sense?”

Naruto was nodding. “I mean, it’s definitely crazy, Iruka-sensei, but I can see where you’re coming from.”

Iruka frowned as it sank in. “God, I could have just sent right away, couldn’t I have? There wouldn’t have been anything for me to worry about if I had. Tsunade and Sakura would have taken care of him faster and better.”

Naruto wagged his finger in his teacher’s face. “You would have still worried, Iruka-sensei. You love worrying. It’s all you do.”

Iruka pouted. “It’s not my fault everyone is always getting themselves in danger.”

Naruto just cackled and swiped his ramen back. 

Later that night, after a full day of bedrest, Iruka was discharged with orders to eat a big meal and get a full ten hours of sleep before waking up in the morning. He was also put on temporary leave from the academy for a full week in order to ensure his chakra levels returned to complete normalcy. 

That meant that Iruka had no idea what to do with himself.

He wandered the downtown for a while, buying snacks from various food carts until he felt full, but he wasn’t really feeling relaxed the way he was supposed to. He never got to go out, and he knew that this would have been more fun if he’d invited some friends along, but Naruto’s words wouldn’t stop ringing in his head. Kakashi doesn’t have friends. People are too scared of him to be his friend. Iruka was sad to realize that he himself had avoided Kakashi in the past out of fear. The legends surrounding the man were of epic proportions, not to mention the fact that Iruka was just a Chunin. But other Jounin, surely, wouldn’t be afraid of him, would they?

Iruka realized that he’d begun to wander back towards the part of the town where the hospital was located, so he abruptly changed courses and headed home, figuring he might as well do some cleaning up. He hadn’t been back to his apartment since the night before, after all.

The place was a mess. Iruka hadn’t even remembered Kakashi breaking his window. He rolled up his sleeves and started picking glass out of his carpet, depositing the shards into the trash can. It was slow going, but once he got up all the big pieces, he’d be able to use the vacuum cleaner to get the rest. And he didn’t even want to think about the mess waiting in the bathroom. Iruka sighed heavily. Maybe he’d just move instead. He felt bad for Kakashi, sure, but he could’ve just gone straight to the hospital instead of being such a disruption into the Chunin’s normally quiet life. 

xxxXxxxxXxxxxXxxxxXxxx

Tsunade stared hard at the folder open on her desk, placed there by Shizune minutes ago. She understood, in hindsight, that she should have expected this, should have seen it coming, but Kakashi was normally so professional, so solid and silent, that he had remained the least of her worries up until now, when his emotional instability was staring her right in the face.

Something had seemed off to her when Kakashi had accepted the mission. Bounty-hunting was not really his style these days, but it wasn’t like she had a reason to refuse his request to be put on that particular mission, so she’d sent it through to him and put him on the case of hunting down a small group of missing nin. It was expected to take a week. Kakashi had been gone two and a half. Even that hadn’t entirely bothered Tsunade, as she knew Kakashi was more suited to recon and was probably taking his sweet time. All of the intel she’d been receiving told her Kakashi was in no danger. Whatever had happened to him last night needed to be retold to her as soon as she’d dealt with the question of his… illness. 

She’d ordered a psych eval on him as soon as he’d woken up, right after Iruka had left his room. Kakashi hadn’t seemed like himself, had been unusually talkative during the evaluation. Overly cheerful, to a manic degree, even, and the answers he’d given to questions regarding himself had been revealing to say the least. The Jounin evidently seemed to believe he’d been masking his problem rather well, or so Tsunade thought, knowing the man to be hard-pressed to admit his faults. Still, psych evals were, by design, meant to trick so-called geniuses into revealing whatever they wanted to keep hidden, and Kakashi - well, there was just no way around it - Kakashi was acutely lonely, self-destructive, and depressed to the point of suicidal recklessness.

She really needed that mission report to confirm this suspicion, of course, but Tsunade had gotten her hands on those wounds and knew that far too many of them were avoidable, especially by the Copy Nin. No, Kakashi had meant to get hurt. She’d seen ninja do it in the past. It was more or less common, actually, for a few different reasons. Some ninja got off on it, some did it for the scarring, and in Kakashi’s case, some did it as atonement. She knew Kakashi well enough to know he had a lifetime’s worth of guilt eating away at his his soul. It was a wonder she hadn’t started seeing him exhibit this kind of behavior before. 

But to involve the teacher was not something she would have predicted. 

Tsunade crossed the room to a filing cabinet and rifled through it until she found Umino Iruka’s own psychological evaluation record. He submitted himself to one every year. Damn, but the man was a saint. He wanted to make sure he was fit to teach the children, year after year. Tsunade pulled his most recent one, took it to her desk, and cracked it open.

Umino Iruka was an odd ninja, to be sure. In his prime, and with a little more application, he might’ve made Jounin, but instead he’d decided to train the pre-genin. While all of his other peers were hungry for A and S ranked missions, Umino Iruka was settling down into a life of deskwork. Yes, Iruka truly was a rare kind of ninja, content with a life any other ninja would consider far beneath them. And Iruka did it out of love. His psych evals reflect his compassion for others, dedication to quality work, and commitment to the betterment of others. Tsunade snorted. Imagine that, a selfless ninja. A non-violent ninja. Umino Iruka, where had the system gone wrong with you?

Tsunade’s mind swirled as she contemplated Kakashi’s predicament against Iruka’s temperament. Something had to be done about Kakashi. He couldn’t be allowed to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for supporting me, y'all! Waking up to your comments really fueled my desire to keep funneling my energy into this dumpsterfire of a fanfic.


	3. Chapter 3

“You wanted to see me, Tsunade-sama?” 

Tsunade gave Iruka a reassuring smile. “You’re not in trouble, Iruka, don’t worry. It’s about Kakashi.” She scrubbed a hand over her face, sighing. “Take a seat. I’m not sure how to explain this to you yet.”

Iruka sat, looking no more reassured than when he had entered. “What’s wrong with him?”

Tsunade barked out a laugh. “You ask a difficult question, Iruka.” She shook her head. “Kakashi is more or less fine. I’m hoping you’ll be able to help with that.”

“What can I do?” Iruka asked earnestly. 

Tsunade smiled at him, a scheming glint in her eye. “How would you like a roommate, Iruka?”

Iruka’s entire face froze for a second while he processed this. “A roommate, Godiame-sama?”

Tsunade nodded. “A roommate, Iruka. I’m taking Kakashi off of active duty while he heals, and he needs to be watched. More than that, he needs to be made useful, otherwise he’ll get bored. You’ll give him something to do, I trust?”

Tsunade watched as her double-entendre whizzed right over the Chunin sensei’s head. “I suppose I could have him help out at the Academy. And I do have a guest bedroom he could use for a while.”

“Excellent,” Tsunade chirped, “He moves in today. We’re releasing him from the hospital this afternoon.”

“So soon?!” Iruka exclaimed, looking shocked, “Wasn’t his condition critical yesterday?”

“Hatake is a notoriously fast healer. He’s already shuffling around the hospital halls, leering at nurses and spouting off bad poetry lines to any doctor foolish enough to have their back turned, god bless him.” 

Iruka stifled a laugh. Or a cough. It could easily have been both. “If that’s what you think is best, I can receive him any time. I have class again this afternoon, of course, so any time after we let out.”

“Of course, Sensei,” Tsunade said with a bow of her head, “Dismissed.”

After Iruka had left, Tsunade found herself staring out her window, looking down at the town. Iruka was notorious throughout the village as being the only person to tolerate Naruto for more than ten minutes at a time. He was practically the boy’s surrogate father. Tsunade had both heard the tales as well as witnessed firsthand Naruto’s testaments regarding his precious Iruka-sensei. Her own experience with the man had given her an impression of him as being very even-tempered and patient. If anyone could help Kakashi heal his heart, it was him. 

XxxxxXxxxxXxxxxX

Iruka could have screamed. Babysitting, that’s what it was. He had been charged with babysitting Sharingan Kakashi, the most dangerous ninja in Konoha. The man was strikingly obtuse, inconsiderate, and seemed to enjoy playing with the lives of others as well as his own, and now he was to be Iruka’s houseguest for the foreseeable future. Besides, Iruka was a loner. An introvert. He didn’t do other people for more than a few hours at a time. As such, he’d never had a roommate before, and he was dreading it. 

These dismal thoughts occupied the teacher throughout the entire afternoon, and it was as if a dark cloud was following him around. He didn’t think it was his imagination that the children seemed suspiciously well-behaved on this particular afternoon. All too soon, the end of the day arrived, and Iruka dismissed his class before readying himself to go prepare for his ill-gotten houseguest. 

It was as he was packing up his satchel that he felt a presence nearby. It didn’t seem hostile, so Iruka wasn’t alarmed, but all the same, he was being watched. There, outside the window, a figure was crouched in the branches of the tree growing in the courtyard. Iruka crossed to the window, not even attempting to feign ignorance. “Kakashi-sensei, what are you doing up there?” he asked crossly, hands on his hips.

Kakashi gave him a jaunty salute. “Good afternoon, Iruka-sensei! Shall we walk home together?”

Iruka rolled his eyes and grabbed the rest of his things before leaving the building the normal way by taking the stairs. Kakashi was waiting for him by the exit, once again dressed in the traditional leaf shinobi uniform, and they fell into step together.

“You seem pleased today. Happy to be moving in?” Iruka asked by way of making smalltalk. 

“Absolutely not,” Kakashi replied in the same cheerful tone, “Believe me, Iruka-sensei, the last thing I want to do is impose upon you.”

“It’s not much of an imposition, really,” Iruka assured him with a shrug, “I just have to get the guest room ready. I haven’t used it in a while.”

Kakashi hummed in response. “Tsunade says you’re going to keep me busy so that I don’t destroy the village in my boredom.”

“Speaking of,” Iruka interjected, giving Kakashi a concerned look, “Aren’t you life-threateningly injured? Do you need any help getting back to my house? It’s kind of a far walk.”

Kakashi chuckled. “Part of the job. And these injuries aren’t so bad.”

Iruka’s face contorted into skepticism, rolling his eyes up towards Kakashi and inclining his head slightly. “The amount of blood that soaked into my bath rug would indicate otherwise. It seems to me like you’re pretty messed up.”

Kakashi looked down at him, face unreadable behind his mask. “Yet another imposition I must apologize for, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t be,” Iruka replied quietly, blushing for reasons he couldn’t fathom.

Kakashi didn’t reply. They kept walking until the silence became too much for Iruka. “Any idea why Tsunade wanted you to specifically move in with me? I mean, couldn’t you move in with Gai-sensei or someone closer to you?” He was fishing, he knew, but he didn’t feel bad about it. 

Kakashi shrugged.

“I mean, I wouldn’t even consider us friends, really.”

Kakashi shrugged again. 

Iruka felt angry at this, though he didn’t know why. “Then, again, maybe your friends wouldn’t have stayed your friends after having to live with you.”

Kakashi laughed, looking over at Iruka with something like fondness in his eye. “No, they probably wouldn’t.”

Iruka looked away, focusing on the ground instead. Why was talking to Kakashi so hard?

XxxxxXxxxxXxxxxX

Kakashi was in love with Iruka. 

He’d known it probably for a year now. Most nights, he’d make his way to Iruka’s part of town at a quarter to ten because even though he went to bed around eleven, he was always in his bedroom at ten. He’d get to Iruka’s apartment, settle down in the knot where the tree branches split, and watch the man in his room get ready for bed. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even watch so much as he would just sit there with his eyes closed and feel the other’s presence, feel his chakra flowing peaceful and deep. It was his favorite thing to do anymore. A small part of him acknowledged how weird and creepy it was to be doing it, but most of him didn’t care at all. 

God, he had it bad.

When he’d woken up in the hospital, he’d felt Iruka’s chakra swirling around in his body from when he’d healed him, and it’d been, hands down, the best thing Kakashi had ever felt in his life. Iruka’s chakra was somehow both soothingly cool and reassuringly warm at the same time, pumping through his pathways and making him feel featherlight and carefree. Then, he’d opened his eyes and seen Iruka’s concerned face and was convinced that he’d really died. After all, Iruka was pretty much all he wanted out of heaven. There had been the troubling matter of their interaction, where he’d perhaps said a little bit too much, but there were worse things than Iruka potentially piecing together his feelings for him. 

When Tsunade had told him he’d be living with Iruka for the next couple of weeks, well. Let’s just say, Kakashi had not entirely ruled out the theory that he was actually dead. 

When they’d arrived at Iruka’s house, Kakashi had been given his own room, which smelled faintly musty but was still a room in Iruka’s house, all said and done. Kakashi was in paradise. Iruka had blushed and mumbled in an incredibly adorable fashion about changing the sheets before disappearing, leaving Kakashi to get acquainted with the place. Kakashi was pleased to note that he shared a wall with Iruka’s own bedroom. 

Still, he was troubled by the fact that he’d been put on medical leave from active duty. There really wasn’t a physical reason for it. He’d be healed completely in a few days, and his physical and psychological evaluations were fine. Tsunade had no reason to think he wouldn’t be able to do his job. So why wasn’t he doing his job? Tsunade hadn’t given him room to argue, hadn’t even let him in her office. Just told him that, until further notice, he would be banned from running missions, and left. It was frustrating, to say the least. 

Kakashi ventured out into the short hallway of the apartment to the main living space, where Iruka was rooting around in a closet. He’d already started a pile of pillows and sheets next to him on the floor. Kakashi watched him silently, taking simple pleasure in watching Iruka’s ponytail bob up and down. When Iruka finally looked up to see Kakashi looming over him, he squawked and startled, his weight tipping him over his heels and onto his ass. 

“Why would you sneak up on me like that?” Iruka demanded, an embarrassed flush coloring his cheeks. 

“Ninjas are not easily surprised, Iruka-sensei. How was I to know I would scare you?” Kakashi replied innocently, hands raised in supplication.

Iruka stared at him. “And now you’re making fun of me?”

Kakashi shook his head. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“And yet, here I am, feeling like an idiot,” Iruka spat, pushing himself up off of the floor with his hands, “Here are your sheets, you can get your room sorted out by yourself.”

Kakashi watched, feeling lost, as Iruka stormed over to his bedroom and slammed the door shut. What had he done? 

Kakashi supposed he might as well do what Iruka asked him to. That seemed like the right place to start. He collected his pillows and bedsheets and took them to his room. Putting a bed together was easy. People put beds together all the time, and none of them were genius ninja. Sharingan Kakashi was a genius ninja and would not have any problems putting together something so simple as a bed. 

Iruka’s house had strange beds. They were raised off of the floor on stubby little legs, and instead of a bamboo mat or bedroll material, there was a thick mattress. Kakashi narrowed his eyes at it as he picked up a sheet, shaking it out and laying it over top of the mattress. There, that looked right. He reached for the next sheet in the pile, and-, hang on, why did it have elastic in its edges? Kakashi spread it out with his hands, searching for a corner, but the thing didn’t seem to have discernible edges the way the first sheet did. What the hell was it? 

Kakashi studied the mattress carefully, deducing that the elastic was to slip underneath the mattress so that the sheet would stay flush to it. But why? What benefit could that have? Kakashi decided it was not his place to question, and set about trying to slip it onto the mattress. 

An impossible task, he decided after a few fruitless, frustrating minutes. Kakashi was so fed up with the thing, his fingers were curled around a kunai before his conscience even caught up with him. Iruka would be pissed if he stabbed holes in the fabric. But how would he get the stupid thing on if he didn’t pin it down? Kakashi felt a growl bubbling low in his throat, but he suppressed it. Instead, he formed the hand signs for summoning and pressed his hands into the ground. In a puff of smoke, Pakkun appeared, looking unimpressed. 

“Good of you to finally call me,” Pakkun growled, trotting lazily over to smell the potted plant in the corner of the room, “Is this Iruka’s house?”

“Pakkun, I need your help with something.”

Pakkun wheezed a laugh. “You needed it before. But, nevermind. What’s the situation, boss?”

Kakashi pointed to the sheet, lying crumpled on the bed. “Help me put this thing on the bed.”

Pakkun stared. “You’re serious?”

Kakashi just eyed the sheet. “You need more than one set of hands to get it on. It won’t stay.”

Gently, Pakkun took one of the ends of the sheet in his teeth and held it steady as Kakashi lined it up on the other side. He slipped the sheet over the end of the mattress without trouble this time, but when he stood up to survey his work, he saw that they’d gotten it sideways. Shifting it popped the sheet off of the bed, and Kakashi sighed heavily. The two worked at it and eventually managed to get all four corners onto the bed, but it was creased and lumpy and awful, and Kakashi felt kind of ashamed. He went to banish Pakkun when the dog suddenly slipped between his legs and ran for the doorway.

Iruka was crouched in the hall, ready to pet. “Hey, Pakkun, how’s it going?” he asked, smoothing Pakkun’s ear with his thumb.

Pakkun feigned being aloof, his foot thumping the floor softly. “Oh, you know. Doin’ alright. It’s good to see you, Iruka-sensei.”

“You don’t let me pet you,” Kakashi protested, surprised that Iruka had managed to sneak up on them.

Pakkun and Iruka both looked at Kakashi. Pakkun rolled his eyes. “You’re not good at it. Later.” And with that, the pug disappeared in a cloud of smoke. 

“Need help?” Iruka asked, standing.

Kakashi rubbed the back of his head. “I guess I do.”

Iruka pulled the fitted sheet up off of the mattress and laughed, pulling the second sheet out from underneath it. He didn’t comment on it, though, just corrected Kakashi’s mistake, first fitting the elastic sheet to the mattress and guiding it on with an expert hand. It only took him a minute or two to dress the entire bed, Kakashi standing by somewhat helplessly. When it was done, Iruka set his hands on his hips in casual triumph.

“Thanks,” Kakashi said hesitantly. 

“You’re welcome,” Iruka replied, “Come out into the living room with me.” He turned and left the room.

Kakashi’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t argue. He waited a few seconds before following Iruka to the living room area, where he was bent over, looking through his refrigerator. He straightened after retrieving two brown glass bottles of beer and handed one to Kakashi. “Let’s talk.”

Kakashi did not like the sound of that, but he liked the look of Iruka and the taste of beer, so he sat down on the couch. “Okay.”

Iruka sat across from him on the floor. “How’re your injuries?”

Kakashi’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “They’re fine.”

Iruka’s mouth quirked to the side.

“Don’t you believe me?”

Iruka shook his head. 

Kakashi’s expression softened. “I didn’t want to stay in the hospital any longer.”

“I can’t believe Tsunade let you leave.”

“She knows how I am.”

Iruka tilted his head to the side. “How are you?”

Kakashi drained half of his beer in one pull. “Are we doing this?” he asked seriously.

Iruka stared back hard into his visible eye. “You need to do it with somebody, Kakashi.”

Kakashi studied the carpet for a moment. Iruka waited patiently. Kakashi appreciated that. “Why do you want to be the one I do it with?”

Iruka was quiet for a moment. Kakashi could see the wheels turning behind his eyes. Then, finally, he said, “For the longest time, I was the only person I felt genuinely cared about Naruto. When you took him on as a student, I was afraid of you because of this.” He took a drink. “But you did care. You still do. I respect you for it. You helped him in ways I couldn’t during a hard time in his life. I want to help you, if I can.”

Kakashi digested this slowly. He rolled replies around in his head and finally came up with, “I thought you treated him like a child. It took me a long time to realize that wasn’t a bad thing because you were the only one who ever did that for him.”

The two sat in silence for a while. Iruka got up and got them more bottles. They finished those. Kakashi took his turn, then. It was halfway through his third bottle that Iruka spoke again. “I still don’t understand why you came to me for help.”

Kakashi studied his bottle, observing the line of liquid that turned the brown glass a darker color. “Because you’re nice.” He realized how weak this sounded. “Because you’re a good person, and I know you’ll help me.”

Iruka pointed at Kakashi with his bottle. “Any medic at the hospital would’ve helped you.”

Kakashi shook his head. “The same way any of Naruto’s teachers in school would have taught him. It was their job to do so, Iruka, just like it’s a medic’s job to sew me back together. Would you have trusted them to do it the way you would’ve?”

Iruka snorted. “Point conceded.” He gave Kakashi an appraising look. “But you didn’t answer my initial question. How are you?”

“If you mean my injuries,” Kakashi began frankly, “It hurts to move. It hurts to breathe. I have more ribs broken than I even knew I possessed.”

Iruka’s eyes flashes concern, but he did not move. “And why would you leave the hospital? Why would Tsunade let you?”

“I don’t like being watched, is the short answer. Even when it’s Sakura or Tsunade doing the watching.” Kakashi shrugged. “The hospital is a prison, everyone monitoring me and checking up on me and tracking my behaviour. It makes my skin crawl, always has.”

“You heal better on your own,” Iruka observed, connecting the dots, “Your wounds can’t heal properly if you’re not rested, and you’d never be able to rest under those conditions.”

Kakashi positively bubbled up with pleasure that Iruka was getting it, understanding him. It sparked a warmth in his chest that hadn’t been there before. “Right, so they just try their best to stabilize my condition and send me on my way.”

“So why me, then? Why assign you to me?”

Kakashi frowned. “I don’t know.”

Iruka’s eyebrows rose, his eyes wide. “You don’t know?”

Kakashi shook his head.

Iruka stood to get them more beer, collecting Kakashi’s empty bottle as he did so. “Might be because Tsunade thinks I can keep an eye on your condition?”

“That undoubtedly occurred to her, yes.”

“But that can’t be the whole thing.”

“I’m glad you agree.”

Iruka sat back down, still maintaining his distance on the floor. He leaned forward to hand Kakashi his drink. “Might it also have something to do with what you said to me in the hospital? About caring?”

Kakashi couldn’t help himself. He blushed. “I hadn’t told her about that, no.”

“I didn’t tell her, either,” Iruka said, and Kakashi was oddly comforted by this, “Although as to what you meant by that, Kakashi, I’m afraid you’re often too cryptic for me.”

Kakashi smiled. “Crypic, you say?” he teased, “Surely an academy sensei such as yourself has the intelligence to riddle through my utterances?”

Iruka’s look darkened. “Watch it,” he warned.

Kakashi gave Iruka a surprised look. “I’m sorry?”

Iruka took a pull from his bottle, glowering at it as he spoke. “Just because I teach at the academy doesn’t mean I’m an idiot compared to you active duty ninja.”

“That wasn’t my, er, intended implication,” Kakashi clarified, unsure as to why Iruka would think it was. 

Iruka fixed Kakashi with a pointed stare. “I’m not as dumb as people think I am, Kakashi. I know when you call me Iruka-sensei, you’re mocking me.”

“People mock you for teaching at the academy?” Kakashi questioned.

Iruka nodded. “Everyone does. They just think I don’t notice. Just because I didn’t become a jonin, everyone thinks I’m weak.”

“Name one person who thinks that,” Kakashi challenged. 

“You,” Iruka said pointedly, then began to list, “Asuma, Kurenai, Anko, Kotetsu and Izumo for sure, even though they’re only chunin, too. Aoba,-”

“You’re just listing all of the people you talk to on a regular basis,” Kakashi pointed out. 

Iruka’s eyes narrowed. “My point is, I know what you think of me.”

“Oh, do you?” Kakashi asked.

“I know you all think I’m weak.” His arms crossed self-consciously, and Kakashi’s heart did a flip. 

Kakashi moved from his position on the couch to sit cross-legged on the floor across from Iruka. “I don’t think you’re weak.”

“You do,” Iruka insisted.

From this close, Kakashi could see the faint blush dusting Iruka’s cheeks, and it was the first time during the entire conversation that he’d considered that Iruka might be drunk. “Iruka, I really don’t, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop telling me what I think and what I don’t think.”

Iruka’s blush darkened, as did his frown, but he didn’t press the issue. Kakashi sighed aloud, giving Iruka a small smile. He couldn’t help it. Even when the man was being frustrating, he was cute. And they were close enough that Kakashi, if he really wanted to, could lean in and capture those pouting lips in a kiss. If he really wanted to…

It was the first time during the entire conversation that Kakashi considered he himself might be drunk. 

The corners of Iruka’s mouth lifted in a smile. “Well, I guess I can believe you. But you have to understand why I wouldn’t. No one really considers what I do important or difficult even though it is.”

“I’ve got no doubt that working with pre-genin every day, trying to get anything through their thick little skulls, is nothing short of miracle-working,” Kakashi said with all the sincerity he had in him, “You really couldn’t pay me to do it, honestly. I haven’t got the patience. I barely have the patience to work with genin students. I’ll never do it again. Iruka, I mean this, you are a saint.”

Iruka chuckled. “I’m going to forgive the exaggeration and believe you.”

“You should!” Kakashi protested loudly, laughing, “I am being perfectly honest with you!”

“You’re being loud is what you are,” Iruka cautioned him with a shushing noise, but he was giggling, too. 

“Are we drunk?” Kakashi asked.

Iruka nodded cheerfully. “We are.” Then, after a beat, “Shit. And I have to teach in the morning. I should go to bed.”

Kakashi frowned. 

Iruka noticed. “I’m sorry, Kakashi. We can talk more tomorrow, though?”

“This feels sort of abrupt, Iruka.” Kakashi was definitely pouting. He couldn’t stop himself. 

“I know, I know, I just,” he sighed, “I lost track of time with our conversation.”

Kakashi continued to pout.

“What if you meet me for lunch tomorrow? The ramen shop by the academy, one o’clock?” Iruka asked. 

It was the best he could hope for. Kakashi smiled. “I won’t be late.”

Iruka stood. “You’d better not be.”

Kakashi figured there was really nothing in the entire world that could make him late for a date with Umino Iruka.


	4. Chapter 4

Kakashi awoke a split second before Iruka screamed.

He sat up in bed sharply and was on his feet before he noticed that he didn’t sense an intruder’s chakra. A nightmare, then. 

Iruka screamed again.

Kakashi was torn. Waking a shinobi from a nightmare was never a smart idea. Iruka probably wouldn’t be able to injure him, but it would be messy. Nightmares were private affairs. Iruka would probably be embarrassed.

The sound of muffled moaning and sobbing carried through the wall.

Kakashi was on his feet, his body reacting in spite of his mind’s protests. He made it all the way to Iruka’s bedroom door before he forced himself to stop. Iruka was still crying out on the other side. The sound tore Kakashi’s beating heart out of his chest. He laid his palms flat against the door. He wanted to help so badly, but what could he do? 

He stood like that, compassion warring with logic, until Iruka went quiet, at which point Kakashi turned and shuffled back to his room. 

XxxxxXxxxxXxxxxX

Iruka found himself looking forward to lunch with Kakashi. Last night had been fun. Kakashi was surprisingly easy to talk to. He’d been worried that the Jounin would criticize him for the way he lived - his apartment was small and spartan, and he hadn’t exactly been prepared for guests. He had been on the defensive from the very start, but watching Kakashi fail to put the fitted sheet on his mattress was endearing, and it humbled Kakashi enough for Iruka to think him a human being. And after their conversation last night, well, Iruka had no doubts left that Kakashi was utterly human. He’d had no idea how perceptive the man was of his relationship to Naruto. It was comforting, in a way, to finally understand that he wasn’t the only one watching out for the kid. 

He’d been alarmed to be told that Kakashi’s injuries weren’t healed, that he’d been prematurely discharged. He’d have to keep an eye on the other man. It seemed to Iruka that maybe Kakashi had that in common with Naruto; both were too stubborn to admit they needed help.

Iruka hummed as he walked, both hands in his pockets, towards his and Naruto’s favorite ramen stand. He’d told Kakashi to meet for one o’clock, but he’d heard all about the man’s famous lateness from Naruto, so he had tried to preempt that by also being late. He really hated waiting for people, so he didn’t feel that guilty about it. As the ramen shop came into view, though, Iruka was surprised to see Kakashi already sitting there, eyes bored and searching the streets. 

Iruka jogged the rest of the way. “Kakashi-sensei!” he called in greeting, stopping just a few feet short of the stand and resuming a normal pace, “I’m sorry! Were you waiting long?”

Kakashi smiled beneath his mask, waving a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, Iruka-sensei,” he replied good-naturedly, “I put our orders in with the cook while I waited so that you wouldn’t have to wait to eat.”

As Kakashi said this, two bowls came sliding down towards where Kakashi was sitting at the bar-like table. Iruka took his seat, a guilty smile on his face. “You didn’t have to do that for me,” he said sheepishly. 

Kakashi shrugged and turned to face his bowl. Iruka did the same, averting his gaze to respect the other man’s privacy.

“So, how did you sleep last night, Iruka-sensei?” Kakashi asked.

Iruka raised an eyebrow. “Fine?” he replied hesitantly, “Why do you ask?”

Kakashi visibly searched for a reason, finally landing on, “You look tired today.”

Iruka sighed. “I slept fine. If I look tired, it’s because of the students. This year’s class is a handful. Konohamaru would have been enough to deal with. The rest of them makes it,” Iruka paused, “a challenge for my patience.” He smiled. “But I have my ways of dealing with them.”

Kakashi raised an eyebrow. “Sensei, how nefarious of you.”

Iruka laughed. “You have to fight fire with fire, and that’s all I’ll say about it.”

Kakashi’s visible eye widened. “Come on, Sensei, you can’t leave me hanging on that.”

Iruka just smirked and returned to eating his ramen. After a beat or two, Kakashi began to ramble a humorous story about an old Team 7 mission. Iruka laughed genuinely at all the funny parts, of which there were many. Kakashi turned out to be a pretty good storyteller, probably explaining why the man was famous in the village for his fantastic excuses. Iruka traded him for a story from Naruto’s school days, which got the two talking about their teaching methods. 

“My problem with students is they won’t try if they don’t think they can,” Kakashi was saying, shaking his head and gesturing with his chopsticks in sort of a crazed fashion. “Especially the ones from prominent clans. They’re too calculating. They assess a situation, and if they don’t think they can effect a favorable outcome, they won’t attempt an action. I saw it time and time again with my fellow Jonin’s teams and during exams, which is one of the reasons why I didn’t take on a team before Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke. I can’t be patient with that kind of attitude.”

“But a good shinobi should be able to assess a situation like that,” Iruka argued, “No sense in risking your life when you know it won’t make a difference.”

Kakashi shook his head. “A certain amount of that is fine, obviously, otherwise we’d all die running suicide missions. But let’s, for argument’s sake, speak strictly about practice scenarios. I have no tolerance for students who won’t try because they think they won’t be able to do it.”

“It’s a lack of creativity, I think,” Iruka suggested.

“Go on.”

“Well,” Iruka started, pausing to gather his thoughts, “Of course, if a Genin student is up against a Jonin teacher, there’s no way that student is going to be able to, say, physically beat his teacher. Not attempting to at all, though, shows that the student lacks the ability to think of creative solutions.”

Kakashi smiled, “Like the test I gave Team 7 with the bells.”

“Naruto told me all about that. It was genius,” Iruka said with a smile that bordered on devious, “On both of your parts.”

“It’s what convinced me I wasn’t wasting my time with them.”

“None of them have the ability to accept defeat, I don’t think.”

“I wouldn’t train anyone that did.”

“That much is obvious,” Iruka commented with a snort. 

Kakashi gave him an amused look.

“There’s something to be said for knowing when to run, like if it’s to keep you alive.” Iruka served Kakashi a pointed look, “Recklessness is rarely a good trait in shinobi.” And suddenly, they weren't talking in hypotheticals anymore. 

Kakashi said nothing, expression unreadable.

Iruka swallowed thickly. “A strong sense of self-preservation will produce creative solutions that don’t involve you dying. There’s a difference between perseverance and stupidity.”

“I know what you’re getting at, Iruka,” Kakashi said, an edge to his voice, “I won’t apologize for my actions, however reckless you think they were.”

“I don’t even know what those actions were,” Iruka pointed out.

“Nor are you ranked high enough to,” Kakashi shot back. 

There was a beat of silence.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” Kakashi apologized, staring hard at the counter top.

“No, I think you did,” Iruka replied stiffly, standing. “Thank you for lunch, Kakashi-sensei. I will see you at home tonight.”

Kakashi stood as well, intending to follow him, but the way Iruka cringed when he did made him freeze long enough for Iruka to dart away, disappearing in a puff of smoke.

XxxxxXxxxxXxxxxX

Well, fuck.

Kakashi knew he’d done a bad thing. He hadn’t meant to pull rank, really. It was reflexive. He did it so often whenever someone came too close to asking a personal question. He hadn’t even considered how Iruka felt, how he’d told him he felt, point blank to his stupid face, about his insecurities concerning rank. Kakashi felt like an absolute idiot. Iruka’s insinuation about his reckless endangerment of his own life had rubbed him the wrong way, even though he’d basically admitted to Iruka that he’d been careless on his mission, and he’d responded in anger. Like an absolute moron. 

Kakashi sat perched in a tree outside Iruka’s classroom, far enough away from the building that he could be reasonably certain Iruka wouldn’t detect his presence, and thought about how to fix things. His first instinct was to get Iruka something, like an apology gift. But he really didn’t know what the other man liked. And he hadn’t really spent enough time at his house to judge his hobbies. Besides, Iruka was an earthy person. He probably didn’t put much value in material goods anyway. 

Ugh. 

Kakashi glowered into the classroom window, thinking maybe by sheer force of will he could make Iruka stop being mad at him. It didn’t seem to take hold, but that didn’t stop Kakashi from sulking about it for the rest of the afternoon, letting his frustrations bake in the hot summer sun. The tree wasn’t very shady, but Kakashi was, and he was loathe to give up his Iruka-stalking position in case an opportunity presented itself for him to swoop in and apologize. Or something.

When Iruka had finished teaching, Kakashi tailed him to the missions desk for his shift. He didn’t attempt to conceal what he was doing, either. He didn’t want Iruka to think he was trying to sneak up on him again. Still, his efforts didn’t seem to be appreciated. Iruka remained stoic at the missions desk. He didn’t laugh at any of the bad jokes he told his fellow Jonin. Not even one. Usually, Iruka would pretend to be otherwise occupied, all the while listening in to Kakashi’s conversations. Kakashi knew because Iruka stifled his laughter in an incredibly obvious way. Today, though, not one single chuckle to be had. 

“What’s up with Iruka?” Asuma asked.

The two were standing by the window while they idly watched Anko get ripped apart by said Chunin for not filling out her mission forms properly.

“He’s not usually this… cranky,” Asuma continued, taking an enormous drag of his cigarette. 

Kakashi eyed Asuma, shrugging. “Could be the kids.”

“It’s probably the kids,” Asuma replied, “I would not want either of his jobs.”

“We don’t really know that much about him, do we?” Kakashi continued, studying Iruka’s movements closely. “Would you consider Iruka a friend, Asuma?”

Asuma’s expression was a tug-of-war between a grin and a grimace. “He’s certainly had his hands in places most of my friends haven’t.” 

Kakashi could not have prevented the full-body twitch if he tried. 

Asuma snickered at him. “He’s patched me up a couple of times. He’s patched a lot of us up, actually. Iruka’s a good guy. And anyway, he’s a lot gentler with sutures than most medic nin.”

“How did that one start?” Kakashi asked, genuinely curious, “I’d sort of heard rumors he had healing abilities, but he doesn’t work for the hospital officially.”

“Well, it’s actually kind of a funny story.” Asuma took in an audible lungful of air. “Y’see, Ibiki and Anko got drunk this one time, right? Well, we were all pretty drunk, but them the most.”

Horrifying. 

Asuma nodded. “You interpret the scene correctly, my friend. Unsurprisingly, Gai tells the story the best, but the outcome was that neither of them wanted to fess up to Tsunade that they’d been drunkenly brawling with each other, and Iruka happened to also be at the bar when it happened. After that night, we invited him out as a thank you. He ended up having to pop my shoulder back into place after Gai challenged me to arm wrestling.”

“The poor bastard,” Kakashi remarked, shaking his head.

“I’ll go to his place sometimes after an injury that I don’t really want to report. He doesn’t ever ask how it happened. I dunno, it’s nice.” Asuma shrugged. “Iruka doesn’t judge, just fixes us up. Doesn’t gossip, either. That’s hard to find.”

“He never asks how you got an injury?” 

“Well, not unless I need him to, if that makes sense.”

Kakashi shook his head.

“Like, sometimes, you don’t wanna talk about something, but you need to, you know?” Asuma continued. “Things you don’t even know are a problem until someone cares enough to ask if you’re alright or what you’re thinking, and you just unravel.”

Kakashi contemplated this, eyes not moving from Iruka’s figure. Iruka looked over at him, probably to let Kakashi know that he knew the other was staring, but Kakashi simply held his gaze until he looked away. Kakashi may have been observing Iruka for the better part of a year, but he was surprised to find he knew relatively little about the Chunin. Some things surprised him, others didn’t. He wasn’t surprised to find that Iruka had been patching up his idiot friends when they got hurt to keep them out of trouble. That was in-line with what he already knew. He was surprised at how quickly the man got angry. He’d always associated Iruka with temperance before. But in the past twenty-four hours, they’d had at least two fights, maybe three depending on how you divided up the conversations. Still, Iruka had been gracious before. Kakashi would have to see how quickly Iruka forgave him this time to make a judgement on his patience. 

And he never asked how a friend got injured unless he thought it was necessary to talk about. That was interesting. Kakashi’s mission had been classified, so he wasn’t sure how much he could indulge Iruka on that one, but it was worth some thought. He had gone to Iruka’s rather than the hospital, after all. Subconscious though it appeared, maybe Kakashi did need to talk some things out. 

After Anko had finished filling her forms out to Iruka’s specifications, she and Asuma left together with a final wave to Kakashi. The mission room saw a steady ebb and flow of shinobi, but Kakashi remained constant, leaned against the window for the light, reading his Icha Icha novel. His attention often drifted to Iruka, monitoring his mood to see if he was still angry or not. It was hard to tell, though, because of how frequently his mood was shifting. Every time he gave out a mission to a shinobi he was friendly with, they would chat amiably together and Iruka’s mood would brighten. Then, he would be processing finished reports and his mood would drop again, only to pick back up the next time he was engaged in conversation. It was confusing, honestly. Kakashi didn’t understand how Iruka could be so genuinely pleased so see so many different people. 

Then, just as Kakashi was reaching a really good part in Icha Icha, he felt Iruka’s adrenaline spike. He looked up, curious as to what had upset him so much. But nothing seemed to be out of place. The room was empty except for himself, Iruka, and a third shinobi. The shinobi had handed him a mission report, and he was glancing it over with his usual efficiency. Unlike the others, though, Iruka did not strike up a conversation. Kakashi looked between the two and realized the shinobi was staring at Iruka with an intensity that did seem out of place. He didn’t recognize the man, didn’t know if he should, but it was clear that he and Iruka did not like each other. Kakashi resisted the impulse to cross the room to them. His eyes returned to his book. 

“Everything seems to be in order. Thank you for your service,” Iruka said stiffly, the phrase carrying the weight of formality in a way it hadn’t when he’d said it countless times before to other shinobi that day. 

“And thank you for yours, Iruka,” came the shinobi’s leering reply. His voice was low and carried a hint of disrespect to it that neither Iruka nor Kakashi cared for. He pronounced Iruka’s name very deliberately, like he was savoring each syllable. Kakashi looked up again. Iruka remained silent, staring down at his paperwork, his body language signaling that the interaction was over, but the man did not leave. He continued staring down at Iruka, hands in his pockets and a mean grin on his face. 

Iruka finally sighed and looked back up. “Is there something you need?”

The man’s toothy grin widened. “As a matter of fact, Iruka, there is,” he purred, the innuendo unmistakable. 

Kakashi felt his insides boiling. 

Iruka continued to stare vacantly at the man. 

“Why haven’t you been inviting me over anymore, Ru?”

Iruka’s expression did not change. “Don’t call me that.” 

“Would you prefer one of your other nicknames?”

“It seems like the good sensei would prefer you don’t call him anything at all, actually,” Kakashi interrupted from directly behind the shinobi. 

Both Iruka and the shinobi jumped, the latter spinning on his heel to face Kakashi. “And what do you know about anything, Hatake?” he demanded, face flushed in surprise and, hopefully, embarrassment. 

“I know lots of things,” Kakashi replied cheerfully, “But what I don’t know is who you are and why you think you have the right to speak to Iruka-sensei with such familiarity.”

The shinobi was silent, his facial muscles twitching with the effort of containing a comeback. 

Kakashi leaned in. “Go,” he ordered.

He went. Quickly. Kakashi chuckled. A Chunin, then, and one who knew his place.

“You didn’t need to rescue me, you know,” Iruka pointed out, sounding tense. 

Kakashi stuck his hands in his pockets. “I wanted to. He was upsetting me.”

Iruka looked surprised. “Upsetting you?”

“I didn’t like listening to him talk to you like that,” he explained with a shrug, “So I got rid of him. I’m sure you would have dispatched him with equal efficiently. I assumed you wouldn’t mind if I did the honors.” 

Iruka snorted. “You assumed correctly.” He looked down at his desk, sighed, and then looked up into Kakashi’s eyes, a small smile on his lips. “You ready to go?”

Kakashi felt his heartbeat in his throat. “Sure.”

Iruka stood, gathered his paperwork into his bag, and made for the door, Kakashi hot on his heels. The mood had once again shifted between them. Iruka no longer seemed mad at him for earlier. He didn’t seem happy, though. Kakashi decided not to ask. He wanted Iruka to broach the subject, and luckily, he did pretty quickly. 

“I know I can be defensive,” he began, “But thank you, genuinely, for getting rid of Nakamura. He wouldn’t have left me alone unless you’d stepped in.” Iruka sighed. “Usually, one of the other desk workers would get rid of him for me. He’s persistent.” 

Kakashi hummed agreement. “What’d you ever do to him?”

Iruka flushed. “Well. I broke up with him, for one thing.”

Kakashi raised an eyebrow. “He doesn’t seem to believe you meant it.”

Iruka laughed loudly. Kakashi recognized it as laughter of relief. Iruka must have still been tense because of the interaction. “I guess I’m probably too nice.”

Kakashi shook his head. “I never want you to look at me like you looked at him.”

Iruka looked up at Kakashi and winked. “Don’t give me a reason to, and I won’t.”

Kakashi said a quick prayer to whomever was listening that his mask kept Iruka from seeing his blush. 

They returned to Iruka’s apartment, and Iruka immediately headed for the fridge. “What do you feel like eating tonight?”

Kakashi blushed again. “I’m not picky.”

Eating dinner with Iruka was surreal. It was awkwardly domestic and wonderful. Kakashi didn’t know what to do with himself most of the time. He felt too self-conscious to even ask Iruka to pass the salt. And Iruka was determined not to look up at him while they ate. That, at least, he could alleviate. 

“You know, the mask thing isn’t a big deal. You can look up if you want to.”

Iruka kept his gaze down. “You don’t let anyone see you without your mask, Kakashi-sensei. I don’t mind, really.”

“It’s you, though.” Kakashi shrugged. “Besides, there’s no reason for it.”

Iruka looked up quizzically. Then, his eyes widened at what he’d just done. He flinched, presumably to look away, but then slowly returned his gaze to Kakashi after he realized Kakashi wasn’t going to yell at him. “If there’s no reason for it,” he began slowly, eyes searching Kakashi’s face, “then why do it at all?”

“Full truth?” Kakashi asked, voice low and serious.

Iruka nodded, expression intense. 

Kakashi smirked. “I started wearing it when I was really young because I thought it made me look tough and edgy. It became a signature of mine too quickly, and there was really no way to turn back after people started making a big deal out of it.”

Iruka chuckled. “Naruto wouldn’t stop talking about it when he first got put on your team. He thought you had some kind of deformity you were hiding.”

Kakashi nodded. “Anko thinks the same thing.”

Iruka shook his head in amusement. “No one knows?”

“Not even the Godaime herself.”

“Incredible. Well, you look fine to me.”

“How fine, Sensei?” Kakashi asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Iruka cracked up at that, covering his mouth to keep himself from spitting food anywhere. “Better than any weird, aggressive ex of mine, that’s for sure.”

“A high compliment.” Kakashi placed a hand over his heart. “It’ll be nice to not wear the mask around you. I don’t usually wear it at home, so. You know.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” Iruka said with a shrug, “It must be really inconvenient for you to be away from your home and all of your stuff.”

Kakashi shrugged. “Not really. Your apartment is much better than mine.”

“You know what I mean, though.” Iruka made a circling gesture with his wrist. “It must be hard to suddenly have no personal space. My apartment is pretty small for two full-grown adults.”

Kakashi would have honestly preferred it to be smaller. Two bedrooms was not his ideal set-up. “I’m managing fine.”

“I just wish I knew what I was doing,” Iruka continued, “Tsunade-sama told me I was to occupy your time until you’re ready to go back on active duty, but what does that entail? Helping me at the Academy?”

“Bouncing your exes out of the mission room?” Kakashi supplied. 

Iruka nodded. “True. It just seems… I don’t know. Doesn’t it seem like not a good enough reason to make you live with me?”

“Make is a strong word.”

Iruka’s eyebrows rose. 

Kakashi frowned. “You know I don’t hate you, right? I actually like spending time with you, Iruka.”

“This is the most we’ve ever spoken, ever,” Iruka pointed out, “We weren’t exactly friends before.”

Kakashi’s frown deepened. “Are we friends now, Iruka?”

Iruka looked startled. “Do you want to be?”

Kakashi’s eyes narrowed questioningly. “Do you not?”

Iruka tugged at his ponytail in frustration, standing up and making for the fridge. “I don’t know,” he was saying as he cracked open a bottle of beer, “This is so strange, isn’t it? Us, living together like friends yet barely knowing each other, you not having your mask on in front of me like it’s no big deal, me saving your life the other night and having no idea what hurt you in the first place.” He threw a bottle at Kakashi, who caught it reflexively. “I’m not mad, please don’t think I am. I just don’t understand anything.”

Kakashi used a kunai to pry the cap off of his bottle and took a swig. “That sounds really unfair to you and I apologize for my part in it. Let’s talk about it.”

Iruka looked surprised. “Good, I’d really like some answers.”

“Grab as many bottles as you can carry,” Kakashi instructed. 

Iruka loaded up a backpack and together they crawled out of Iruka’s bedroom window and up the fire escape onto the roof of his building. 

“Give me an easy one to start,” Kakashi requested. 

Iruka hummed in thought. “What do you think of me, really?”

Kakashi groaned, grabbed a bottle, and started chugging. “I respect you Umino Iruka. I’ve always respected you and admired the person you are. I don’t know how tragedy didn’t harden you into a war machine like it did to me, but I’m grateful it didn’t. You are a rare, genuine person in this terrible fucking world.”

Iruka stared. “Okay. Wow.”

“You asked, and I’m not a liar, no matter what my students say,” Kakashi joked to cover his nerves, “Now you go. What do you think of me?”

“That’s not how this works.”

“Iruka, please.”

Iruka rolled his eyes. “I have always thought of you as entitled. I watch you interact with your friends in the mission room, and I think you’re full of yourself.” Iruka’s words slowed. “But,” he paused, eyes raised to Kakashi’s, “I’m jealous of you. You’re strong and capable and respected. You’re also mysterious, which should make you a jerk but it really just makes you interesting. I admire your loyalty to your friends and the Village. Also, I’m afraid of you.”

“Afraid of me?” Kakashi asked. 

Iruka rolled his eyes. “Kakashi, if it hasn’t occurred to you, believe that it’s occurred to me how easy it would be for you to kill me in about thirty different ways.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s probably no more than twenty-five,” Kakashi joked, but his insides were burning. Iruka admired him. 

Iruka laughed. “Shut up. I have always wanted to talk to you before, honestly. What kid in this village didn’t look up to Hatake Kakashi at some point in their lives? But it’s really intimidating to have you as a peer. You’re not that much older than me, but I’ll never reach your level.”

Kakashi shrugged. “You really don’t want to. It just means more people want to kill you, and your boss makes you kill more people.”

“Is it hard?”

“Is what hard?”

“Killing.”

Kakashi mulled this over. “It was, at first. I was six when I made chunin, so I wasn’t much older when I made my first kill.” Rin and Obito. They didn’t count, he’d told himself that over a thousand times. They wouldn’t have wanted him to think of them that way. He’d made his peace with their deaths some time ago, but it didn’t change the bare facts. “It’s only hard if you let it be. It’s not personal unless you make it personal.” 

“Oh.”

“You’ve never killed anyone before?”

“Is that a bad thing?” 

Kakashi mentally cursed. Iruka sounded defensive. Kakashi shook his head. “It’s not something I’d want you to have to do.”

“I know I shouldn’t be offended,” Iruka said patiently, as if trying to convince himself. 

Kakashi looked at him earnestly. “Please don’t be.”

Iruka’s frustration melted away visibly as their eyes met. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

Kakashi scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s not your fault. This is dark stuff.”

Iruka took a gulp of his beer. “It’s about to get worse.”

“Please don’t ask that yet.” Kakashi’s plea was soft and tired. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

Iruka smiled. “Trust me, Kakashi. How did you get hurt?”

Kakashi sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You have to understand, a lot of that mission is classified information. I can only tell you some of it.”

Iruka shrugged. “I just want to know about the fight, what you were up against.”

Kakashi sipped his beer. “Well, first thing, there were multiple fights. I can’t tell you where the mission was to, but it was a recovery mission. A team of Leaf shinobi had been intercepted carrying intel, and I was dispatched to recover it and release the prisoners. I wasn’t supposed to fight anyone, but I did.” Kakashi paused, thinking about what else he could reveal. “I released the prisoners first, which I shouldn’t have done. I realize now I should’ve gone for the scroll first, but I didn’t. They all made it out fine, but by then I’d been discovered.” He took a hard pull from his bottle, looking over at Iruka. “What you have to understand is that I’m listed in pretty much every Bingo Book ever printed, so they all knew I was Sharingan Kakashi immediately. Enemies are either too afraid to engage me or really fuckin’ amped to engage me, no middle ground. This group was the latter, and five-on-one didn’t exactly go my way.”

Iruka’s face was horrified. “The other Leaf shinobi didn’t help you?”

Kakashi shook his head. “I ordered them to make for our borders and not look back.”

“Why?” 

“I didn’t want them getting killed.”

Iruka pursed his lips. 

“I know I should have had them hang around while I went for the scroll,” Kakashi admitted, “And as will become abundantly clear, I didn’t make many good decisions that week.”

“That week,” Iruka parroted hollowly.

Kakashi nodded. “They kept me captive at their camp for a while while they tried to decide what to do with me. I had barely used any of my chakra freeing the prisoners, so I wasn’t in bad shape, really. Just biding my time, waiting for a moment to go for the scroll.”

“Were they feeding you?”

Kakashi laughed. “Iruka, you are too sweet.”

Iruka cracked another bottle with a muffled sound of frustration. 

Kakashi laughed again, taking the offered bottle. He hadn’t realized he’d emptied his but evidently Iruka had. “They toyed with me. Took shots at me while I was tied up. Stuck me full of senbon to see if I would scream. I didn’t. I’m patient like that. So, after a while they decided it would be fun to make a contest out of it. They offered me a deal. Said they’d give me the intel if I could win against their best guy. Absolutely idiotic move, they should have stabbed me through the skull the second they had me tied up. But there’s something about a famous name that makes enemies want to play around instead of do their jobs.”

Iruka laughed loudly, too loudly, into the night, his voice ringing in the dark. Kakashi’s story was clearly giving him anxiety, but he wanted to know, and Kakashi respected him too much to insult him by stopping. 

Kakashi scooted a little closer. “Anyway, so they picked out their guy, don’t remember his name, but he was a good shinobi. Really good. Weapons specialist, close combat. I kept my sharingan closed to frustrate them. They really didn’t like that. Wanted to see it in action, but it drains my chakra, and I knew I wouldn’t get away with killing just one enemy.” He moved his bottle in a swirling motion as he talked, watching the liquid slosh around inside rather than look at Iruka’s reactions. “I should’ve used sharingan to end the fight sooner, but I didn’t. I relied on my own close combat skills, which is how my ribs ended up like they did. He got a lot of good shots in before I killed him.”

“How?” Iruka asked, morbidly fascinated. 

Kakashi raised his arm, mimicking holding a kunai, and thumped Iruka on the back of the neck. “He thought I was unarmed, so he let me get too close.”

Iruka shivered, eyes raised to Kakashi’s face.

Kakashi met his eyes before looking away, out at the village. “I demanded the scroll, but I looked beat pretty badly. They didn’t think I’d be able to take it from them. They were wrong. You see, I’m not a complete idiot. I’d set some traps while I was tracking them, so I led them back the way I’d came. Two of the four fell for them. The other two I had to take hand-to-hand.”

“The wound on your back?” 

Kakashi nodded. “I thought that was going to finish it for me. It didn’t.”

“Why didn’t Konoha send a rescue team?”

“We did. My would-be captors managed to evade them up until I escaped. Tsunade said the rescue team ended up taking care of the clean-up instead. Which is good because I was in no state to, as you are well-aware.”

Iruka let out a shaky breath. They opened two more bottles. 

Kakashi took a bracing slug, draining half, and looked frankly at Iruka. “I took a lot of risks running that mission, Iruka. Risks I didn’t need to take.”

“What do you mean?”

Iruka’s big, brown eyes were just about all Kakashi could see in the light of the slim moon. “I can’t quite understand it myself, but when I was there, in it, fighting for my life, I think there was a part of me,” he stopped, breathed deeply, and looked away, “a part of me that wanted it.” 

Iruka was sitting so close at this point that Kakashi felt him begin to shake his head. “What are you saying, Kakashi?”

Kakashi shrugged. “I don’t know why, exactly, but in that moment, I remember thinking that I wanted it to be happening, that somehow, on some level, I was enjoying the feeling of being there, on the brink, an inch from death. I fought recklessly, and I was getting hit because I wasn’t guarding my weak points. They managed to gouge my back, Iruka. I can’t remember the last time any attacker has scored a hit like that. I was like a wild animal. There was almost no strategy to my actions.” 

Kakashi listened to Iruka’s rhythmic breathing beside him, let it coax him deeper into himself. “But if I really meant to die by their hands, I would’ve. Instead, I involved you.”

Iruka inhaled a rattling breath. “Why?”

Kakashi scowled, finished his beer, and turned his whole body towards Iruka. “You want to know why I came to you, Umino Iruka? I’m going to tell you because I’m very drunk and emotional, two things I rarely am at the same time. I’m going to tell you because you’re the only person who’s ever bothered to get this far with me before and you look so beautiful in the moonlight. I came to you because I want someone to care about me, you specifically. I want you to care about me so badly, but I’m not normal so I don’t know how to ask you to care. I can only selfishly take your hospitality and your attention and make you sew me up when I don’t care to be whole on my own.”

Then, Kakashi leaned forward, arms resting on his knees, inhaled shakily, and was silent.

XxxxxXxxxxXxxxxX

Umino Iruka’s heart was goddamn shattered. He moved with the same instinct that helped him save Kakashi’s life two nights prior. He closed the distance between their bodies, wrapping his legs and arms around Kakashi’s balled-up form, and rested his cheek on top of Kakashi’s silver head. He felt the other’s body shaking against his, so he held on tight. 

He’d had no idea. All this time, he hadn’t noticed Kakashi, hadn’t paid him much thought. All this time, Kakashi was thinking about him, needing him. It broke Iruka’s fucking heart. When was the last time Kakashi had talked to anyone about anything beneath the superficial? The last time anyone had touched him non-threateningly? Who was going to do that for him? Gai? Asuma? 

Iruka murmured into the crown of Kakashi’s head, “I care about you, Kakashi. I want you alive and in my life, I promise.”

Kakashi moved to raise his head, so Iruka pulled back a little. Mismatched eyes stared into his own. When had Kakashi removed his hitai-ate? “I don’t want you to say things just because you think I’m crazy.”

Iruka smiled kindly. “I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re emotionally starved. I think you need a friend who will do things for you like hug you and make sure you eat a good meal and go to bed at a regular time.”

Kakashi smiled back. “You described a parent.”

Iruka mock-frowned. “I prefer to think of it as an overactive nurturing instinct.” 

“Well, maybe I need that.”

Iruka, emboldened by alcohol and moved by the emotional turmoil of the evening, leaned in and placed a kiss on Kakashi’s forehead. Kakashi’s head dropped to the juncture of Iruka’s shoulder and neck, and Iruka shivered as Kakashi’s hot breath ghosted over his pulse. “We should get inside,” Iruka suggested. 

“I have an alarmingly low tolerance for alcohol,” Kakashi announced quietly. 

Iruka chuckled. “We drank a lot. Come on, let’s get into bed.”

“Together?” Kakashi asked.

Iruka would have suspected it was another flirtatious joke if not for the genuine hope he heard in Kakashi’s uncharacteristically small voice. 

He rubbed Kakashi’s shoulders bracingly. “If that’s what you want.”


	5. Chapter 5

There was blood. So much blood. The air was acidic with the tang of metal. It was thick and sticky and coating everything. The floor, the walls, the furniture, Kakashi, Iruka, everything. 

Oh, God, Kakashi. 

Iruka groped, semi-blind in the dark, for Kakashi’s body, almost unrecognizable for all the blood. Oh, God, the blood. Iruka felt his stomach clench and cramp. There was a loud ringing in his ears like after an explosion, and everything was unnaturally muffled, uncomfortably quiet. Iruka’s hands touched something solid, and then that something began to slither up his arm. 

He screamed.

Hands in his hair, on his face, shaking him by the shoulders. Iruka fought them, pushing and clawing without effect, but his body felt so heavy, like lead. He thrashed, and the slithering continued all the way up his arm and around his neck. Iruka gasped, and the gasp turned into a wheeze as all of his air was sucked out of him in a rush. He felt his body slip beneath a surface of water, except the water was thick and gritty and hot. He fell for longer than he knew was possible, sliding down to the bottom of the lake of blood until he hit the bottom. The heaviness increased, he still couldn’t breathe. Iruka tried to cry out, but he had no air. He would die, he couldn’t breathe. He tried to open his eyes, to see anything, but his lids wouldn’t budge, they’d been sewn shut. Iruka could feel the stitches straining as he attempted to open his eyes. As his lungs screamed and his throat burned and his head became first very heavy and then very light, Iruka’s mind chanted “I’ll die, I’ll die, I’ll die.”

Then, it was over. 

Iruka sucked in an enormous, rasping breath, and stared right up into a set of mismatched eyes, one red and one grey, staring back down at him with the fear of God in them. Iruka grasped the bedsheets tightly in his fists and panted, winded from terror, as he stared up at Kakashi staring down at him. Kakashi, straddling Iruka’s waist, remained frozen as he was, two fingers on Iruka’s pulse point at his neck and the other hand tangled in his hair, half for the practicality of keeping his hair back. Neither of them spoke for a long minute. Then, Kakashi gingerly removed himself from his position, and it was as if a spell was broken. 

Kakashi looked away. “Are you okay?” he asked, voice uncommonly quiet, even for him. 

Iruka sat up. He pushed his hair back out of his face. “I don’t know.”

“I couldn’t wake you up.” There was a strain in Kakashi’s voice, like saying this pained him. “You were in that nightmare for,-” he inhaled shakily, “For a while.”

“That’s not your fault.”

Kakashi turned to face Iruka again. “I hit you. To wake you up.”

Iruka frowned, raising a hand to his face. It was only then that he noticed that his skin was stinging. He’d been so disoriented, he hadn’t noticed. 

Kakashi looked ashamed.

Iruka took Kakashi’s hand in his, surprised to find Kakashi trembling, ever so slightly. “Thank you.”

Kakashi’s face didn’t change.

Iruka looked away. “It was horrible.” The dream had felt so real, been so life-like. His body was still shaking from the shock of almost suffocating, or was it drowning? 

Kakashi rested a hand on Iruka’s shoulder. “Do you want to try to go back to sleep?”

Iruka looked up at Kakashi, fear flashing across his face before he could stifle it. 

Instead of replying, Kakashi raised a hand to Iruka’s chest and pressed gently, guiding him down onto the bed. He followed, wrapping Iruka in his arms tightly. Iruka felt the other press the ghost of a kiss to the top of his head, then another, stronger one. “I’m here,” he murmured into Iruka’s hair, “I’m here and you’re safe.”

XxxxxXxxxxXxxxxX

Later, after Iruka was asleep, Kakashi laid awake, thinking. Shinobi had nightmares frequently, so it wasn’t particularly strange that Iruka would have one two nights in a row. No, what was strange was how difficult it had been for Kakashi to wake Iruka up. He’d been locked into the nightmare so tightly that Kakashi had to resort to physically harming him to snap him out of it. 

In the morning, after Iruka had left to teach his classes, Kakashi sought out Kurenai. He knew she had returned from a mission just a day ago, which meant she’d be relaxing at the village hot springs right now. Kurenai was a simple woman, unyielding in personality and habits and, therefore, rather easy to predict. 

As he approached the hot springs, he formed the signs to summon Pakkun, who materialized by his ankle grumpily. 

“What’s up, boss?”

“Can you go fetch Kurenai for me?” Kakashi asked sweetly.

Pakkun rolled his eyes. “When are you gonna summon me for something worthy of my talents?” he grouched, trotting over to the fence and slipping underneath it.

Kurenai appeared a few moments later in a bathrobe and slippers, her hair tied up out of her flushed face. “Kakashi,” she called warmly, slinking up to him the way only a truly relaxed person can, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Kakashi smiled politely. “How was your mission, Kurenai?”

Kurenai frowned. “That had better not be what this is about,” she chastised, but it was playful. 

Kakashi shook his head. “I know you’re busy right now, but I was hoping I could ask you a question about genjutsu.”

Kurenai cocked her head. “Aren’t you the resident expert on all things jutsu?”

“Well, it’s more that I need you to confirm a theory for me,” Kakashi said with a shrug, “And you are the most skilled genjutsu user I know of other than myself. Do you have any knowledge of genjutsu that only activates when the target is asleep?”

“What, to give them nightmares?” Kurenai asked doubtfully.

Kakashi remained silent.

Kurenai frowned deeply. “In sleep, the eyes are closed, so the only way to affect a target would have to be auditory.”

Kakashi shook his head. “I would have heard it, too, then.”

“Do you have any other details for me you’d like to share?” Kurenai sounded annoyed.

Kakashi huffed a small sigh. “I’ve been staying at Iruka-sensei’s place the past couple of days, purely business-related. He’s had nightmares two nights in a row now, and last night, I tried to wake him up from it, but I couldn’t. I had to hit him pretty hard to snap him out.”

Kurenai’s brows shot up in amusement. “You hit Iruka-sensei?” Her expression immediately morphed into one of concern. “You think someone could be targeting him?”

Kakashi shrugged, nonchalant. “I don’t know what to think. I hadn’t seen any signs of genjutsu. There were no unusual chakra traces in the vicinity of his apartment. He hasn’t made contact with anyone other than his co-workers, friends, and students since I’ve been monitoring him. To my knowledge, he hadn’t even left the village in months.”

Kurenai frowned contemplatively. “I’ve never heard of remote genjutsu being used by anyone,” she paused, “other than Orochimaru.”

Kakashi’s brows rose.

Kurenai made circular motions with her hands as she explained. “Orochimaru had, at one point, succeeded in developing oral genjutsu pills. The pills caused body paralysis and, often, hallucinations. But Orochimaru wouldn’t target Iruka-sensei, and he’s very secretive with his projects.”

Kakashi nodded his agreement. It had been years since the village had considered Orochimaru a threat, all things considered. Still, it couldn’t be ruled out completely. “Do you know if any still exist?”

“All of Orochimaru’s pills within our possession were destroyed,” Kurenai wiggled her eyebrows. “The research still exists, but Tsunade has obviously put high clearances on it. I’ve been given the opportunity to study them, but as I’m aware of it, I’m the only one other than herself who’s seen the notes.”

“You’re certain of this?”

“Not certain enough to argue it,” Kurenai admitted, shrugging slightly, “But if you’re worried that someone might be feeding the sensei genjutsu pills, it’s worth investigating.” 

“Thank you, Kurenai. I know today’s your day off,” Kakashi said by way of apology.

Kurenai waved off his concern with a shrug. “Iruka is a dear friend.” She gave him a knowing look. “Take care of him, Kakashi.”

Kakashi did not quite know what to do with Kurenai’s comment, but the kunoichi left before he could question her further. 

XxxxxXxxxxXxxxxX

Iruka felt like shit. 

There was really no other way to describe it. He barely made it through his morning classes, having to excuse himself to the bathroom several times to splash cold water on his face and grimly tell his reflection to “get it together, Umino.” His head hurt, his stomach hurt, his joints ached, and his skin was somehow hot and clammy at the same time. Even his students had noticed his distress and had been unusually well-behaved for him. It was the one positive thing Iruka could point to all day. 

As the last class was filing out of the room, Iruka dropped onto his desk, put his head between his knees, and heaved a pained sigh. Maybe he’d eaten something? No, that was stupid. He knew it had been because of last night. The second night he’d had nightmares, but the first night’s dreams were nothing compared to last night. Was it a coincidence that he had dreamed about drowning in an ocean of Kakashi’s blood after the man’s near-death experience Iruka had all but saved him from? This rationalization did little to make him feel better. He didn’t want to blame Kakashi. After all, the man had snapped him out of it last night. And he’d seemed damned concerned about it, too. Iruka shuddered at the memory of Kakashi’s haunted eyes, his insistent fingers pressed too forcefully into the tender skin of Iruka’s neck. 

That’s right, hadn’t Kakashi also drunkenly called him beautiful? Their night on the roof had been really nice. Iruka liked talking to Kakashi. It was surprisingly easy. Kakashi was surprisingly human. Iruka had never considered that Kakashi might have feelings because Kakashi had never shown them before. Feelings for him, now that had previously been so far removed from possible that Iruka was having a difficult time processing the reality of it. Kakashi had called him beautiful, and he had no idea what to do with it. Iruka was not blind, he knew Hatake Kakashi was the most darkly tempting shinobi in the village. He overheard shinobi in the mission room constantly discussing the man, trading rumors about his sexual preferences and prowess. Iruka himself never indulged in the gossip, if we are to assume the definition of indulgence is confined strictly to verbal participation. Iruka never joined in on conversation regarding the impossible skill with which Hatake Kakashi wielded his dick, but you’d better believe he listened with rapt attention.

His own sex life was, in a word, lacking. He’d had a couple of relationships here and there, one or two flings as well, but more often than not, Iruka was a solitary creature, quite unlikely to grow close enough to another human being to allow them to see him naked. He had a lot of friends, yes, but that was different. And up until this point, he hadn’t even considered Hatake Kakashi a friend. Two days from saving his life, they’d slept in the same bed after having the deepest conversation Iruka had had in years. 

In spite of this, Hatake Kakashi was a deeply complicated, emotionally-repressed man. The way he’d talked about his mission… Suicidal didn’t really describe it. It was more like Kakashi was driven to recklessness for the thrill. Iruka had been on enough dangerous missions to know that the feeling of dancing along the razor’s edge between life and death was potent and exhilarating, but he couldn’t imagine wanting it enough to willingly seek it out. 

Iruka’s feet moved of their own accord, carrying him to the academy teacher’s lounge, where he stuck his head right underneath the sink and cranked the cold water up to high. The shock of the cold snapped him temporarily out of his feverish malaise and allowed him to think clearly. Kakashi’s problem wasn’t that he was a bored thrill-seeker. He was allowing himself to get hurt because he wanted Iruka to tend his wounds, to care about him. Kakashi seemed to be under the impression that the only way to get attention was to demonstrate need for it. The implications of this mindset were harrowing, considering the high-ranked missions he ran regularly. Iruka needed to do something, but he didn’t know what. 

He shut the tap off, for starters. The water still dripped from his long hair, and he untied his hair elastic so that he could towel off properly. When he straightened up, the rush to his head toppled him off of his balance, and he backed into a chair and sat heavily to avoid falling. He felt a little better, though, in spite of that. Resecuring his hair into a messy knot on top of his head and repositioning his hitai-ate around his arm to keep the fabric from getting wet, Iruka braced himself for the rest of his day. He had a full shift to work in the mission room yet before he could go home and talk to Kakashi, and he wasn’t looking forward to either very much.

XxxxxXxxxxXxxxxX

“What do you mean, I don’t have clearance?”

Tsunade pinched the bridge of her nose. “What does it sound like I mean, brat?”

“It sounds like you’ve made a mistake,” Kakashi insisted gravely.

Tsunade’s hands went to her hips. “Normally, Hatake, I put up with your insolence because placating you is easier than arguing. It saves me time, and it keeps my blood pressure low, but this time, you’re not going to annoy information out of me. I cannot allow you to see the research notes. No one is.”

“Tell me why.”

“There’s no reason to. Genjutsu pills are a particularly dangerous, easily misused weapon, and I will not authorize their use during times of peace,” she explained tersely.

Kakashi processed this for a beat. Tsunade must have allowed Kurenai and only Kurenai to see the notes for research purposes and then locked the information away to keep it out of shinobi arsenals. “How long have we been in possession of the research notes? Has the security on them always been this strict?”

“Orochimaru left a copy of his research in my possession several years ago, and during all that time, only two people have ever looked at them,” Tsunade informed him, voice laced with suspicion, “Hatake, would you care to explain why you have such a sudden desire to research genjutsu?”

“So you and Kurenai are the only ones to have seen the notes?” Kakashi pressed.

“I repeat,” Tsunade all but yelled, “Do you have an explanation for me, Hatake Kakashi?”

Kakashi raised a hand to his face and slowly uncovered the Sharingan, using it to scan the area for chakra signals. Tsunade raised her eyebrows in interest. “I have reason to believe that someone may be administering an altered form of them to Umino Iruka.”

“A bold accusation,” Tsunade remarked, but she did not seem to doubt his words, “What have you witnessed?”

“The past two nights, he’s had nightmares. I was only present for the one last night, but his entire body was in shock. I couldn’t wake him up, and he didn’t seem to be able to wake himself up. He was sweating, and his skin flashed between hot and cold to the touch. His breathing was irregular until it stopped.” Kakashi explained everything with clinical efficiency, as if delivering a mission report. “I had to get physically violent in order to rouse him from the state he was in. I spoke with Kurenai earlier today, and she confirmed my suspicion that it may have been oral genjutsu.”

Tsunade was silent for a long moment, processing what Kakashi had said. “It doesn’t sound exactly like the product Orochimaru was able to synthesize, but it is similar enough to give the theory merit.”

“Which is why I want to study the research notes,” Kakashi explained, “I want to figure out how it could have been altered to have a timed release, to coincide with his sleep cycle.”

“There’s the question of motive, Kakashi,” Tsunade reminded him, “Two severe nightmares in a row do not necessarily point to a genjutsu assault. Iruka has not left the village in a while. I don’t have exact numbers right now, but it could easily be as long as two months without so much as a trip to a neighboring town. And no one in Konoha besides myself or Kurenai has access to the information necessary to make genjutsu pills.” Tsunade steepled her hands in front of her. “Not to mention the question of who would seek to target Umino Iruka.”

“I know it sounds unlikely,” Kakashi said defensively, “But I know what I saw. I have experience with genjutsu. It fits all of the symptoms.”

“I don’t doubt your instincts or your expertise, Kakashi,” Tsunade said, “And I will take this seriously. Still, I cannot allow you to utilize the notes. Instead, I’ll put the problem to Kurenai, see what she comes up with. In the meantime, you will function as a guard to Umino Iruka.” Tsunade stood, rounding the desk to stand in front of Kakashi, who straightened up his posture to receive his mission briefing. “Do not allow yourself to be seen with him more than you normally would, but do not let him out of your sights. I want a report of everything he eats and drinks every day and where it comes from. We need to find out, if he is ingesting any kind of foreign substances, where they are coming from. Do you understand your mission?”

Kakashi nodded, throwing a crisp salute. 

Tsunade nodded her approval. “Good. Dismissed, Hatake. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.” Her facial expression softened. “Umino Iruka is an asset and a friend. If what you’re saying is true, we must act swiftly in order to ensure his safety.”

 

“And I’d hate to be the bastard who’s responsible when we catch him,” Kakashi added grimly as he made for the door, “He’s got a lot of people to answer to for hurting our sensei.”

The door shut with a snappy “click”, and Tsunade slunk back to her desk, opening the bottom drawer and retrieving the bottle of sake she’d been working on before Kakashi let himself into her office. First, she assigns Umino Iruka to Hatake Kakashi, and now she assigns Hatake Kakashi to Umino Iruka. This could only go well.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we've waited long enough, i think.
> 
> this fic has gone up to an M rating ;)

Kakashi remained in the Mission Room for the duration of Iruka’s shift, watching closely from behind his Icha Icha novel. He was careful to appear relaxed so as not to rouse suspicion or draw any more attention towards himself than normal. He was unsurprised to see Kurenai come strolling in with her most recently completed mission. The two shared a knowing look as Iruka checked over her work. 

It frustrated Kakashi to not be allowed to study the notes. He wanted to know what to be looking for. As it stood, Kakashi had no idea how many different ways Iruka could be, for lack of better terminology, poisoned. It could be a coating on the pen cap he was chewing on, for all Kakashi knew. Grimly, he reached for the pencil he had tucked behind his ear and made a note on the scrap of paper he’d stashed in between the pages of Icha Icha. Anything that Iruka put in his mouth at this point was getting written down. The thought briefly led Kakashi’s mind down a rather interesting road, but he dismissed it with a professionalism he had previously thought himself incapable of. 

So far, the list of things Umino Iruka put in his mouth was alarmingly small. It read: water (Mission Room bathroom sink), pen cap. 

Kakashi disguised lifting his hitai-ate as scratching his head and surreptitiously cracked his Sharingan eye open to study Iruka. The man’s chakra levels seemed lower than usual, his aura flaring weakly. Frowning, Kakashi replaced his hitai-ate. He didn’t know whether to be alarmed or not. He imagined teaching pre-genin for a whole morning and afternoon before heading right to a shift at the Mission Desk was draining, but he wasn’t certain enough that it was mundane fatigue to dispel his concerned feelings for the sensei. 

Kakashi bristled as Iruka’s ex from the day before - Nakamura? - strolled into the Mission Room. Iruka took no notice, busy as he was with Kurenai’s report, but Kakashi made certain that the man noticed Kakashi noticing him. He snatched nervous glances at Kakashi as he crossed the room to a group of people who evidently knew him from the friendly way they greeted him. Kakashi flipped a page to another blank sheet of paper he’d stashed in his book and wrote the names of the group: Nakamura, Hiroto, Kai, Yamaka. All Chunin. They were talking together like friends, but Nakamura still seemed nervous. Kakashi couldn’t decide if it was because he was actually up to anything suspicious or if he could subconsciously feel all the different ways Kakashi was physically assaulting him in his imagination. 

Though the group of Chunin remained in the Mission Room for quite a while, they never actually filed any reports or took out any missions. Kakashi made note of this, along with the time they all left. He may have been letting his feelings get in the way of the mission, but even if Nakamura wasn’t his culprit, Kakashi still felt it would be best to keep tabs on him. 

The day wrapped up with Iruka still eating nothing, only drinking another glass of water. Kakashi was officially worried. The man had worked a four hour desk shift without so much as a snack. He hadn’t seen whether Iruka had gotten anything to eat before starting his shift, but he somehow doubted he had. Once Iruka had finished packing up his backpack, Kakashi approached the desk, a cheery smile visible behind his mask. “Iruka-sensei, would you like to eat dinner together? My treat,” he announced loudly enough for the remaining shinobi milling around the desk to hear.

Iruka looked startled but pleased. “Sure. I haven’t eaten since this morning. What did you have in mind?”

Kakashi was certain now that his chakra irregularity was exhaustion. From this close, he could also see the pallor of Iruka’s face and the faint purple bruising underneath his eyes. The man looked unwell. “I know of a really great pho place that’s not too far from my apartment. Are you ready now?”

Iruka looked down at himself. “As I’ll ever be.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Although, I don’t really know where you live, and I’m pretty beat, so I hope it isn’t far.”

Kakashi’s eyes crinkled closed in a smile. “Not at all, Sensei.”

The two walked out together into the cool air of the evening. It was almost fall, so the days were getting shorter and the nights colder. It wasn’t bad tonight, though, and Kakashi did really live close to the center of town. 

“How was your day, Iruka?” Kakashi asked, feigning an aloof tone, “You seem tired.”

Iruka sighed, adjusting his backpack over his shoulder. “I am tired. I didn’t sleep well after the nightmare, and I’ve felt off all day.”

“Is that why you didn’t eat?” 

Iruka inclined his head towards Kakashi. “Mostly, yeah. I feel pretty alright now, though. Just tired but not the worst I’ve ever been.”

“Why don’t we get the food to go, then?” Kakashi asked, “We can go right back to your house and you can relax.”

“That sounds-,” Iruka paused to sigh, “That sounds really nice, actually. I’m sorry. I know the dinner invitation was to go out.”

Kakashi waved a hand dismissively. “Not to worry, Iruka-sensei. I’m sure you’ll take me out proper sometime soon to make up for it.”

Kakashi watched the amazing blush creep across Iruka’s face. “You know, I wanted to ask about that,” Iruka began hesitantly, “The things you say sometimes. I mean, I’d like to know what your intentions are. What they were, last night.”

“My intentions?”

“You, ah-,” Iruka paused again, blushing deeper and looking away as he spoke, “You called me beautiful.”

“Oh, that.” Kakashi looked down thoughtfully at Iruka. “I intended to give you a compliment.”

Iruka huffed impatiently. “Well, now you’re talking about me taking you out on a date, and I just wonder if all of this flirting is just meant to tease me and make me feel silly and paranoid, if it means nothing to you.”

Kakashi bit his lip beneath the mask. He was treading on thin ice, and he could feel the water shifting underneath him. “Would you want it to mean something, Iruka-sensei?”

This time, Iruka looked at him thoughtfully. No, appraisingly. Kakashi squirmed internally, willing his body and face to just act natural, dammit. Iruka inhaled deeply, his feet stalling. Kakashi stopped, too, his whole heart in his throat. “I wouldn’t mind if it meant something,” he said quietly, eyes averted. 

Kakashi inhaled deeply, putting a hand to the back of his head. “Ah, Iruka-sensei. My words are meaningless, really.” He saw Iruka’s face positively fall and pressed on, determined to get his complete thought out. “I say a lot of things, really. Actions mean things, people mean things. Being with you, spending time together, that’s meaningful.”

Iruka scrunched his face up. “That was cruel, Kakashi-sensei.”

“It was phrased poorly, I agree. Like I said, my words, they’re not what matters.”

Iruka pursed his lips, his eyebrows cocked. “So, you don’t want to talk to me? I’m just a pretty face, huh, Kakashi-sensei?”

Kakashi spluttered and sighed in frustration when Iruka started to laugh. “Now you’re the one teasing, Iruka-sensei!” he demanded. 

They were standing together underneath a lamppost, and Kakashi felt his body pulled into Iruka as if by gravity. He was not brave enough to actually reach out and touch the other man, but standing so close felt very good. Iruka smiled up at him. “So, what you’re trying to say, you impossibly cryptic Jonin, is that you’ve got feelings for me, romantic feelings?”

Kakashi stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked away, embarrassed to have it verbalized. “I don’t know if I would say-,” 

He was interrupted by the sound of Iruka’s laughter, high and loud and very amused. Iruka turned his back to Kakashi and continued to walk. “Just give it a rest, Kakashi-sensei. I understand you.” He turned his head to the side to give Kakashi a look, as if to say, hey, are you coming or what?

As Kakashi jogged the short distance to catch up, he distinctly heard Iruka mumble “stunted Jonin” under his breath, but he didn’t mention it. Instead, he smiled an indulgent, private smile, and they walked the rest of the way to the restaurant in comfortable silence. Once there, Kakashi placed their order, and it only took a few minutes for them to collect the take-out containers and make the trip back to Iruka’s house. Iruka had casually suggested they could stay the night at Kakashi’s, but Kakashi had quickly made an excuse about the house not being fit for guests at present. 

He wasn’t wholly lying: the house was not fit for guests ever. Kakashi lived in, essentially, a cube. It was a spartan room in an apartment complex near Hokage Tower specifically designed for active duty shinobi fresh out of the Academy or career Anbu with no inclination to live luxuriously or spend time on things like family or hobbies. Since Kakashi was not one to accumulate possessions, he never grew out of the single room he was assigned twenty-some years ago. He had a bed and a desk and a heavy bag for light sparring. That was it. He didn’t even have his own bathroom. The compound had communal bathrooms on each floor. It was not a terribly welcoming place, but it served its purpose and suited Kakashi’s needs fine. He just never had guests over. Not an inconvenience a majority of the time. 

Once inside Iruka’s apartment, Iruka immediately collapsed on the couch with a heavy exhale. Kakashi carried the food into the kitchen to put it in bowls. He’d ordered them both the exact same thing, so it had come in a single container. Iruka had never eaten anything from this restaurant before, so it was almost impossible that this would be the source of the genjutsu. All the same, Kakashi checked it for signs of tampering before bringing it out. 

“So, tell me,” Kakashi said as he sat down in front of the low table, across from Iruka, “What did else did you eat today?”

Iruka sat up slowly, taking his bowl with a mumbled thanks. “Umm,” he hummed, thinking, “I grabbed an apple from the fridge before I left, and Ebisu made me some tea after I told him I wasn’t feeling well. But that’s it, really.” Iruka shrugged. “Truth told, I really didn’t think too much about it.”

Kakashi slipped his mask down, blowing on his soup. “And where did you buy the apples from?”

“You think something I ate made me sick?” Iruka asked, doubtful, “Because I’m pretty sure it’s exhaustion.”

He hadn’t asked Tsunade whether or not he could tell Iruka what was happening, either. Although, if it was happening to him, he’d want to know. “I spoke to Kurenai and Tsunade about your nightmare,” he said.

Iruka cocked his head curiously. “Why would they care?”

“Well, I’m not wholly convinced your dreams are normal.” Kakashi fixed Iruka with a serious stare. “I think it could be a genjutsu someone is casting remotely on you. I have a theory as to how. I don’t know why or to what end.”

Iruka was silent for a moment before laughing. “That’s ridiculous!” When Kakashi’s face remained unchanged, Iruka swallowed nervously. “That is ridiculous, isn’t it? Who would want to target me?”

“That’s what I don’t understand about it, as well,” Kakashi admitted, “But I don’t want to assume the nightmares are normal and wait for them to go away, not after last night.”

“You think-,” Iruka began nervously, “You think that I’ll have another one again tonight?”

Kakashi shrugged one shoulder. “It’s hard to say. You ate so little today, you might not. Kurenai and I have reason to believe whoever is casting the genjutsu is doing so orally by slipping things into your food or drink.” 

“I’m very careful about what I eat, though,” Iruka insisted, “I make most of my meals at home, and when I eat out places, I never go anywhere I haven’t been before.”

Kakashi remained silent, not wanting to insult Iruka’s intelligence by explaining it. 

Sure enough, realisation dawned on Iruka’s face not a moment later. “That makes me easier to target.”

“You’re very habitual, Iruka,” Kakashi explained as gently as he could, which wasn’t very, “You frequent the same places and buy your food from the same market every week. You even go on the same day every week. Tsunade has tasked me with monitoring you, so I don’t need you to worry about this. Actually, I’d rather if you continued doing the things you normally do. It will help me to determine the source of the genjutsu if you don’t interrupt your pattern.”

Iruka stared hard into his pho for a moment before speaking. “It’s alarming, to say the least, to know anything could be poisoning me.”

Kakashi shrugged again. “In a way, yes. In another way, it’ll be very interesting when we finally see how it’s being done. And by who.”

Iruka glared at Kakashi. “I’m glad you have such an academic interest in my suffering, Kakashi.”

Kakashi raised his hands in supplication. "Don't you know not to shoot the messenger, Iruka?”

“I’m not shooting the messenger,” Iruka insisted bitterly, “I’m shooting the guy who doesn’t seem to be terribly concerned that my nightmares might actually kill me soon.”

“You think that doesn’t worry me?” Kakashi’s voice shook slightly, his grip on his bowl tightened. Iruka stared at his hands in alarm. Kakashi realized he might squeeze it hard enough to break and forced himself to relax. 

“Okay, it worries you,” Iruka said, sounding contrite.

“I’m not good with feelings, Iruka,” Kakashi told him, “But I do care about you.”

Iruka’s expression was unreadable, but he finally said, in a voice barely above a whisper, “I believe you.”

Kakashi set his bowl on the table and stared at his hands, unsure of how it would help him talk but hoping it might. “I don’t normally do feelings. They don’t help me do my job. Usually." He glanced at Iruka, expression serious, before looking back down. "But you do. The thought of you while I’m on a mission makes me want to come back. Knowing you're at the Desk makes me turn reports in, even if they aren’t always on time.” 

“But we barely know one another,” Iruka pointed out, voice lacking conviction, “You never said more than two words to me before all this started happening.”

Kakashi returned his gaze to his hands. “I don’t know how to do feelings. That doesn’t mean I don’t have them,” he repeated, “I know I’m not normal, Iruka.” He shrugged, looking back up. “I don’t know what to say to you.”

Iruka crawled off of the couch onto the floor and settled down in front of Kakashi, between his knees. “How about we don’t talk then?”

And then Iruka was kissing Kakashi. Soft, full lips met his own, so warm and wet, and Kakashi parted his lips to invite them in before he was even wholly aware of what was happening. Iruka’s tongue licked at his bottom lip lightly, the barest brushing of heat, and his hands went to Kakashi’s jaw to relax the muscles there with a massaging touch. Kakashi’s brain misfired several times, finally falling back on knowledge gained from Icha Icha. He put his hands on Iruka’s chest and let himself be kissed, not entirely knowing what Iruka wanted from the situation but not entirely caring, either. 

Iruka wasted little time in showing him. He pressed forward, guiding Kakashi’s body down to lie on the floor. His knees straddled Kakashi’s waist, one hand in his hair and the other on the floor for balance as he worked his tongue, massaging Kakashi’s mouth with the muscle. He held Kakashi’s head at the angles he wanted, kissing him deeply with expert teeth and lips and tongue, biting and sucking at the flesh of Kakashi’s mouth with tender insistence. Kakashi kept pace, allowing Iruka to dominate their kiss because the things the other man was doing was leaving him absolutely breathless with desire. He had no other words for it. Iruka’s kissing was downright slutty. His tongue licked at the back of Kakashi’s teeth and coaxed his own tongue into a messy dance that was awkward and sloppy and made Kakashi’s toes curl and his desire pool low in his stomach, all the while thrusting their hips together to the sluggish rhythm of their heartbeats.

Practiced hands worked his vest off, the material falling heavily to the floor with the weight of the weapons stashed away in the pockets. Kakashi reached to undo Iruka’s own but found that his hands had forgotten how the clasps worked. Luckily, Iruka didn’t seem to mind, shedding the garment himself before pressing Kakashi into the floor, shuddering with desire as he did so. Kakashi’s hands would not, could not stop moving along Iruka’s body, massaging his back and shoulders and, oh God, that ass. Iruka’s own hands found their way underneath Kakashi’s shirt, and he dragged his fingernails lightly over the skin below his navel, making the other man positively shake with the force of how badly he wanted, needed to be touched there again. Iruka ground down on Kakashi, hands dragging roughly up his sides to tug at his hair to run back down the length of his body and then back up again. It seemed like Iruka couldn’t decide exactly where to touch. Kakashi wanted it all at once. His head was spinning from the rush of blood that had left it, and he was glad he had the floor at his back. 

Iruka moved his mouth to Kakashi’s neck, impatient fingers hooking underneath the cloth of his mask and yanking it down to give himself better access to the pale flesh. Kakashi couldn’t stop the lust-filled moan that dragged from his lips. God, he sounded like a whore, but Iruka wasn’t letting up. He bit at the same spot twice, and the cocktail of pain and pleasure went straight down to Kakashi’s already painful erection. He moaned again, louder this time and more insistent. “Iru-KA!” he near-yelled as Iruka sucked at his neck with enough force to bruise. 

“Kakashi,” Iruka replied, voice gravelly with lust. He dragged his teeth up Kakashi’s neck and kissed a line from his jaw back to his lips. “Just say if you want more.”

“Please, Iruka,” Kakashi nearly begged, his lips at Iruka’s pulse and sucking hard like Iruka had done to him, “Don’t stop.”

XxxxxXxxxxXxxxxX

And really, who was Iruka to argue with a request like that? 

Kakashi looked so incredibly vulnerable beneath Iruka. It was almost too much. Almost. Iruka put his hands underneath Kakashi’s shirt and slowly worked it off, dragging his calloused hands along the freshly uncovered skin of Kakashi’s abdomen. The man was impossibly pale, making his scars, new and old, stand out starkly in contrast. Iruka dipped his head low and pressed the flat of his tongue to each of the new ones in turn. Kakashi’s body vibrated and hummed with his desire, his hands clamped on Iruka’s shoulders tightly, desperately. 

A smug, smirking Kakashi was frustrating. A cold, indifferent Kakashi was infuriating. A sweaty, shaking, aroused out of his goddamn mind Kakashi was manageable. More than manageable. Iruka was in complete control of the other man, playing with his body every way he liked, exploring what made Kakashi gasp, moan, groan, and cry out. He kissed a featherlight trail down from his neck to a nipple and sucked lightly. Kakashi moaned deliciously, his thin fingers twisted in Iruka’s ponytail, yanking the elastic out in favor of holding it together with his hands. Iruka rolled Kakashi’s nipple experimentally with his tongue before grazing it lightly with his teeth, earning him the smallest of gasps. He switched to the other, giving it the same, slow treatment. Kakashi ground up against Iruka insistently, the hard press of his cock making Iruka feel impatient. Suddenly, he wanted, needed to touch lower. 

He raised his eyes to Kakashi’s face. His head was thrown back, pupils blown wide and eyes glazed over with need. When Iruka stopped, Kakashi looked at him, curiosity bleeding onto his face. “Need your dick in my mouth,” Iruka managed, not super comfortable with dirty talk but wanting to ask permission, “That okay?”

Kakashi’s response was an agonized groan. “God, ‘Ruka, whatever you fuckin’ want.”

Iruka grinned greedily, his hands trailing down to work on Kakashi’s belt. Their eyes remained locked together. Iruka was mesmerized by the Sharingan, swirling unnaturally, hypnotically at him. He wondered whether Kakashi would be able to recall this moment with photographic memory later on. 

Iruka had known, really, that Kakashi was an emotionally-underdeveloped trainwreck of a man. Making Chunin at the age of, what? Five? Frankly, Iruka was surprised Kakashi didn’t turn out worse. A lot of his Jonin friends were a similar way, uncomfortable with verbalizing their feelings and more inclined to make dinner for Iruka than thank him for patching them up. It was unfamiliar territory, vocalizing feelings. Ninja were physical beings, so it stood to reason that they were infinitely more comfortable expressing emotion physically. So, after days of dancing around whether or not Kakashi was romantically interested him, Umino Iruka decided that the best course of action would be to suck his dick and see what happened next. So far, so good.

Finally getting his pants undone, Iruka slid down Kakashi’s body to rest between his knees. Kakashi’s cock stood painfully erect against his stomach, bright red and swollen with need. Iruka breathed in deeply, briefly intimidated by the sheer size of it, before he summoned his courage and, with agonizing slowness he knew would drive Kakashi crazy, sucked the head into his mouth. He bobbed it in and out, allowing his saliva to coat it. His tongue swirled around the head, flicking the slit playfully and making precum bubble up. Iruka placed a hand at Kakashi’s base before taking him down his throat. 

Kakashi’s hips immediately tensed, his muscles straining with the force of holding himself back from thrusting up into Iruka’s hot, inviting mouth. Iruka placed his other hand on Kakashi’s hip, holding him down as he sucked the man’s length. The hand on Kakashi’s cock worked with his mouth to set a slow, steady pace. Iruka was having a bit of a hard time getting used to Kakashi’s girth, but fuck if he didn’t love the feeling of Kakashi’s head at the back of his throat. He moaned, sending vibrations through Kakashi’s cock that had the man swearing oaths. The hand in his hair tightened, and he heard Kakashi whine what sounded suspiciously like “baby”. He took the hand away from Kakashi’s hip and gently cupped his balls, making Kakashi moan low in his throat. 

Iruka's lips released Kakashi, using his hand to slowly stroke the entirety of the man. His eyes roamed across the landscape of pale skin, harsh scars, and red teeth marks on Kakashi's body, impossibly aroused by absolutely every inch of Hatake Kakashi. He kept one hand low, a well-placed knuckle lazily massaging the root of his dick behind his balls while the other pumped his shaft, fingers caressing the skin with filthy reverence. When his hand would reach the head, he would drag his fingertips across the underside lightly, stimulating the knot of skin there with just enough pressure to make Kakashi's low moans turn to whines. Iruka bent forward again, and Kakashi's cock practically bobbed up into his waiting mouth. Kakashi's hands twisted Iruka's hair in his grip and he pulled, hard. Iruka fucking shook, he was so turned on. He increased the pace, bobbing faster up and down on Kakashi’s cock. “Yes, baby, oh God.” Kakashi’s moaned words of encouragement made Iruka speed up, setting a relentless pace that brought tears springing to his eyes from the sheer force of it. “Oh my god, Ruka, holy shit, baby, yes, yes, fuck, baby, please,” Kakashi babbled, voice slurred and needy. He was moving his hips now, too, meeting Iruka’s pace. Iruka stilled so it was just Kakashi’s thrusts, and the man slowed, evidently confused as to why Iruka stopped. Iruka slapped his hip encouragingly, holding his throat open, waiting. Kakashi stopped moving. Slowly, Iruka brought his lips up Kakashi’s cock and gave his head an affectionate suck as he came up completely. He fixed Kakashi with a devastating smile. “Fuck my throat, baby, like you mean it.”

He slid back down Kakashi’s length, and the man groaned, needing no second bidding. His hands held Iruka’s head in place as he thrust deep, hard, and impossibly fast into Iruka’s throat. Iruka desperately fought the urge to choke, tears sliding down his cheeks. In spite of the pain, he moaned low and long at the rough treatment, which sent Kakashi spiraling over the edge. Four more absolutely overwhelming thrusts and Kakashi was spilling himself straight down Iruka’s throat, which made Iruka’s gag reflex finally insist that really, enough was enough. Iruka jerked his head up, coughing and spluttering, the cum he couldn’t quite swallow slipping from the corners of his mouth. 

He sat on his heels and wiped at his mouth, drinking in the sight before him. Hatake Kakashi, maskless, pants around his ankles, lay gasping on the floor with his arms spread out at his sides and his face turned up towards the ceiling. His mouth was open, his bruised lips parted to better allow his lungs to drag air in and out of his thoroughly-used body. His eyes, though unfocused, were shining with unshed tears, a testament to the force of his orgasm. His whole body was littered with mouth-shaped bruises and shining trails of Iruka’s spit. Iruka licked his lips. “You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Iruka admitted.

Kakashi, too shattered to speak properly, merely nodded. 

Iruka chuckled, rising to his feet and leaving the room, returning in a moment with a towel. In his brief absence, Kakashi had managed to sit up, but he still had a dazed look. He lobbed the towel, which Kakashi caught with precision. He idly rubbed his chest with it, eyes trained on Iruka, saying nothing for a long minute. 

“That,” Kakashi said finally, “Really just happened, didn’t it?”

Iruka nodded, smiling affectionately. He crawled over to Kakashi and planted a kiss on his lips. “I like you, too, Kakashi.”

Kakashi’s eyes lit up, a fire blazing behind his pupils that honest to God made Iruka blush as if he hadn’t just sucked the life out of the man with enthusiasm he hadn’t shown since he was a teenager. He couldn’t help but feel a little shy, in spite of himself. Kakashi just, well. He was Kakashi. A living legend. Master of a Thousand Jutsu. Cross-legged, naked, and smiling an honest, unmasked smile in Umino Iruka’s living room. How could he even begin to resist leaning in for another kiss?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no matter how exhausted, there's always energy left for vigorous head (especially when all y'all leave me the sweetest, most amazing comments ever)


	7. Chapter 7

Later that night, Iruka and Kakashi sat under the dim lights in Iruka’s living room, drinking tea from chipped mugs and strategizing over how best to lure out Iruka’s attacker.

“I should start eating and drinking everything you do,” Kakashi proposed in a monotone, sounding bored. If not for the way his pupils darted around, Iruka would say he wasn’t even thinking at all. 

Iruka shook his head. “That would be too suspicious. We can’t let them know we’re onto them.”

Kakashi nodded. “I logged everything that came in contact with your mouth today right down to the cap of the pen you were chewing on at the Mission Desk. If you have a nightmare tonight, we’ll know it’s not Mission Staff or Ebisu.”

Iruka smiled deviously. “Everything?”

The corners of Kakashi’s mouth twitched upwards. “Nearly everything. I’ll have to update the list.”

“Please don’t.”

“What if it’s me, though?” Kakashi teased, “You did only start having the nightmares after I started staying here.”

Iruka shook his head. “You wouldn’t be trying to kill me. I’m far more valuable to you alive.”

“True enough. So, we know it’s not me, and it’s probably not Ebisu, either,” Kakashi listed. 

“Probably.”

“We might be able to work backwards from motive,” Kakashi said, “If you can think of a reason someone would target you.”

Iruka tilted his head back. “It could be a strike on the Academy itself. Take out the teachers, weaken the future of Konoha.”

Kakashi nodded. “What else?”

Iruka’s forehead wrinkled. “That’s a pretty solid reason, I’d say.”

“I’d agree,” Kakashi said with a nod, “But is that all?”

Iruka was silent for a moment. He watched Kakashi play with a pencil, twirling it in his thin, nimble fingers like Hayate often would. “No.”

“No it’s not?”

Iruka shook his head. “No, I can’t think of anything else.”

Kakashi frowned. “I’ll ask around, see if anyone else has been experiencing the nightmares.”

“You’re dissatisfied.” It wasn’t a question.

Kakashi gave Iruka a sidelong look. “It’s not much to go off of.”

“Sorry?”

Kakashi shook his head. “It may very well be that. It just bothers me to have only one lead.” 

“I’m not really that important.” Iruka shrugged. “I don’t make enemies. I don’t really go on missions besides the odd courier mission when the Academy is on recess to pay the bills. I haven’t done anything to make anyone want revenge against me unless my students are trying to kill me over bad grades.” He chuckled at his own joke.

Kakashi twitched but didn’t move, made no physical indication that anything had changed, but Iruka felt him perk up a little with interest. “Have you held anyone back recently, Iruka-sensei? Anyone important?”

Iruka laughed again. “You’re joking, right? They’d never.”

Kakashi stared.

The corners of Iruka’s mouth tipped down in thought. His eyes scanned the ceiling, like he was reading something printed on the tiles. “No one whose parents would have the means to try anything funny.”

“You’re sure?”

Iruka shifted his shoulders. “It’s worth looking into. I’ll get the names and addresses from the Academy tomorrow.”

Kakashi seemed satisfied by this. Iruka could tell because of the way Kakashi’s jaw relaxed. He had been clenching the fine muscles in his mouth out of what Iruka assumed to be anxiety. Having more than one avenue to explore seemed to put him at ease. Iruka couldn’t say he agreed. Even one reason someone would want him dead seemed to be too many. 

“What we first need to figure out is the source of the poison,” Kakashi mused aloud, “Isolate where it’s coming from, investigate the source, trace it back to the culprit. You’ll share some of everything you eat or drink tomorrow with someone around you. We’ll observe them all, and whoever else succumbs to the nightmare will point us to what contained the poison.”

“That’s a terrible plan!”

Kakashi arched his visible eyebrow.

Iruka huffed. “I’m not going to put my friends in danger like that.”

Kakashi shrugged. “It’s either that or we risk discovery. Any other method would be obvious.”

Iruka shook his head forcefully. “No way. Not happening, Kakashi.”

“Fine, what do you propose?” Kakashi asked, voice level. Iruka knew he wasn’t angry. 

Iruka tapped his fingers against his ceramic mug, his nails making a faint clicking sound against the polished stone. He raised his right hand to his mouth and used his teeth to tug at a hangnail. “What if-,” he stopped, looking down at his now-bleeding finger, “Hang on. That gave me an idea. Can we assume the poisoning is specific to me?”

“Until I confirm it’s happening to other Academy teachers.”

“If I’m the only target,” Iruka continued, “However the enemy is getting to me can’t be anything someone else might also ingest. Our poisoner wouldn’t just sneak into my favorite restaurants and supermarkets and slip genjutsu into whatever they think I might order.”

“There’d be too much collateral. He would have trouble hiding.”

“So, the natural conclusion then would be that whatever’s affecting me is something that only I use,” Iruka finished, “It couldn’t be a tainted water fountain in the break room. It could only be a bowl of ramen if the chef was the culprit. It would be too risky to poison a whole supply of something.”

Kakashi was nodding to the cadence of Iruka’s voice. “Which means we have some things we can rule out now, provided you are the sole target and not the entire Academy. If it is the Academy, the compromised substance would be there, naturally.”

Kakashi closed his eyes, and Iruka knew the other man’s brain was working double time to come up with a plan. Iruka’s own mind was occupied, unable to leave an earlier point in the conversation.

“Something still bothers me.”

“What?”

Iruka cocked his head. “The timing. I’m not saying it has something to do with you, but you showing up at my house after a mission and the next day I’m being targeted. It doesn’t feel so coincidental.”

For the first time during their entire conversation, Kakashi moved. His entire body snapped to attention, like an electric current had run down his spine. His eyes flashed, boring precise holes into Iruka’s own. “Maybe it isn’t a coincidence.”

Iruka fixed him with a questioning look.

“During my mission, I didn’t confirm all of my kills,” Kakashi elaborated, rising to his feet, “At the time, I was sure I hadn’t been followed. But I can’t be certain.”

“At the time, you weren’t in a position to be thorough with covering your tracks.”

Kakashi paced the floor and popped his knuckles, thinking silently.

“Tsunade would know. Didn’t the recovery party sent to rescue you turn in a report?” Iruka continued. “They would have dealt with any nin following you back.”

“My traps.”

“What?”

“The traps I set when I was fleeing,” Kakashi clarified, eyes searching the air above Iruka’s head, pupils dilated. “Two of them fell for my traps. Supposedly lethal traps.”

“If they didn’t work,-”

“The recovery team should have taken care of them,” Kakashi agreed, finishing Iruka’s thought, mania tinging his voice, “But let’s say they missed one because he had already started following me back. If the trap hadn’t killed him, he would’ve been barely alive, but he would have had enough of a head start to evade the scout party.”

“The report would say how many bodies were disposed of,” Iruka pointed out, “We have a way to confirm,-”

“Stay here,” Kakashi demanded before suddenly disappearing in a puff of smoke.

Iruka felt like he’d been through a whirlwind. Everything about Hatake Kakashi was ruthless, right down to his thought process. Iruka felt very tired all of a sudden. He sighed, rose, and went to draw himself a bath. 

XxxxxXxxxxXxxxxX

Tsunade was just finishing up the last of a report that just wouldn’t let itself be written when a frenzied Kakashi burst through her wards like a man possessed. This was not the first time he had done this, and she was certain it would not be the last. Nevertheless, she put on a show of being irritated for his benefit. 

“... disrespectful, inconsiderate, entitled brat!” she finished, feeling rather deflated by the whole thing. “What do you want, anyway, Hatake?”

“I need to see the report from the shinobi sent to rescue me from my last mission,” Kakashi said, gingerly picking a senbon from the fleshy pressure point of his shoulder where Tsunade’s trap wards had so lovingly and precisely thrown it so as to deaden his right arm. 

Tsunade curled her lip. “The feeling will return in a few minutes. What do you need the report for?” She was already moving to the filing cabinet. It hadn’t been that long ago, and the mission had been of special interest to her, so she’d kept it in her office for ease of access. The decision was paying off well already. 

“I believe one of my attackers escaped,” Kakashi reported, “He tracked me but was unable to finish me off himself. He’s the one casting genjutsu on Iruka.”

Tsunade’s hands paused. 

“You said it yourself,” Kakashi continued, voice low, “Who would want to attack Umino Iruka? No one. He’s trying to get to me. He’s implanting his genjutsu within something in Iruka’s house, where I’m staying, but whatever it is, I haven’t eaten or drank it yet.”

Tsunade turned, folder in hand. She slapped it down, open on her desk. “How many Cloud shinobi did you dispatch personally?”

“Three. One at the camp, two who pursued me. There was a total of five. Two of them, I didn’t see die. I set traps for them that they fell into, but I couldn’t confirm the kills,” Kakashi listed. 

Tsunade stared at the report. “There were four Cloud hitai-ates recovered, four bodies disposed of.”

Kakashi cursed. 

“You let a target escape, Kakashi,” Tsunade shook her head at him, “But worse, my team failed to intercept him.”

“I can draw him out.”

“How?”

“The genjutsu is meant to weaken the body,” Kakashi explained, “Iruka has been steadily losing energy after every night under the genjutsu. I’d need to observe it more to be certain, but I don’t know if we have that kind of time. Regardless, all I’d need to do would be to feign the effects of the genjutsu and be ready for the Cloud nin to strike.”

Tsunade raised a brow. “When?”

“Soon,” Kakashi replied, “As soon as possible.”

“Give it a few more nights,” Tsunade advised, sinking back into her chair, eyes on the report, “Iruka should be able to withstand it, and we need to be certain your theory is correct before we go setting any traps.”

Kakashi’s visible eye closed. He seemed to be hesitating. Tsunade found that strange. “Out with it. What’s wrong?” she demanded.

Still, Kakashi did not speak. He opened his eye, and Tsunade thought she could read the emotion reflecting through it. Concern. “Hatake, what’s bothering you?” She asked the question this time, tone gentler.

Kakashi sighed almost inaudibly. “I don’t want to see harm come to Umino.”

“He’s a Konoha shinobi,” Tsunade argued blandly, linking her hands and propping her chin up on them, “He’s made of the same, tough stuff as you. Besides, you won’t let any real harm come to him. So he’s exhausted for a few days while we confirm our suspicions? I’ll have his Mission Desk hours cut.” 

“He won’t like that.”

“He doesn’t have to.”

Kakashi huffed another sigh, this one completely audible. “You’re right, of course, it’s just,-”

“You care, Hatake,” Tsunade observed bluntly, “Don’t let it twist you up. You’re allowed to care. But Umino is a man and a capable ninja. You can inform him of everything we’ve spoken about. I’m sure he will agree with us that this is the best course of action.”

Kakashi visibly considered arguing, thought better of it, and then - true to form - was gone in a puff of smoke. 

Tsunade smirked from behind her hands. Hatake Kakashi was a brilliant strategist and a deadly weapon. But he was also an idiot. She enjoyed their little chats, even if they did cut into her working time. She brought out the sake from where she had stashed it the moment before she’d been interrupted and got back to work.

XxxxxXxxxxXxxxxX

When Kakashi finally came back to the apartment, Iruka was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. His head, eyelids, and shoulders all drooped with a fatigue that didn’t normally come before midnight. He was embarrassed that Kakashi was seeing him this way, this weak. Kakashi seemed only to want to make it worse. As soon as he popped back into the room, he snatched Iruka into his arms and carried him over to the futon couch, laying him down across his lap and cradling him in a way that should’ve been awkward but wasn’t. 

“Went to see Tsunade?” Iruka murmured. His head was propped up on Kakashi’s shoulder, and he tilted it upwards, doing his best to look into Kakashi’s eye. 

Kakashi pulled his mask down with the hand that wasn’t supporting Iruka’s back. He turned his head and pressed his lips to Iruka’s own, their chilliness surprising Iruka. Kakashi must’ve been outside? Or were his lips always like that? 

“I spoke to Tsunade, yes,” Kakashi confirmed, “How long have you been so exhausted?”

Iruka hummed in his throat before answering. “All night, really, but tea really-,” he stifled a yawn, “Really puts me to sleep.”

“Bullshit,” Kakashi argued with a roll of his eye, “Listen. I spoke to Tsunade about our theory. She wants to give it more time to see if the genjutsu continues. I thought it was a bad idea, but she insisted that we gain more intelligence before we take action.”

“She’s smart,” Iruka observed, voice thick with sleepiness that made his tone sound petulant instead of argumentative, “Tsunade’s right. As much as I don’t want to keep having the nightmares,-” he shuddered, “We don’t know which of our, ah, theories are right.”

“It’s mine,” Kakashi began matter-of-factly “The enemy nin tracked me here after my last mission, which means I’m the real target, not you. Something in the house has been tampered with, but I haven’t ingested it yet.”

Iruka hummed in his throat again, snuggling his face into Kakashi’s navy uniform turtleneck. Iruka always preferred the black ones, for absolutely no reason he could really think of, but he liked that Kakashi wore the blue. His grey eyes appreciated the color they added to them. Iruka suddenly wished the uniform shirts came in dark green, but then they would clash with the vests. 

“Iruka, you should get some rest.” Kakashi expression was unreadable. 

“What?” Iruka positively slurred the word, but he didn’t have time to be embarrassed, as he was dimly aware of the world fading away, his attention completely focused on the warmth radiating from all around him. 

He fell into a trance of sorts that his body recognized to be sleep but his mind did not. All night, Iruka dreamed a formless dream that was really an infinite number of smaller, disjointed dreams that overlapped incomprehensibly, so much so that Iruka made no attempt to comprehend them. He would allow his unconscious mind to drift, unable and unwilling to control the flow of his thoughts, in and out of impossibilities that defied description. At times, he felt like he was floating away into the sky, the sensation of weightlessness making his head spin. Others, he felt like he was sinking down into a bottomless mire, mud and pus sucking at his skin like leeches. His skin crawled, burned, peeled, and pricked all in their own turns. At times he couldn’t see, and at others he couldn’t hear. He couldn’t smell or taste or touch, although he wasn’t trying to. His awareness of these issues was not altogether focused on his inability to perceive objects or complete tasks. He simply existed in various states of inability, passing in and out of these physical bondages like a spectre trailing through walls to different rooms. The mansion he haunted, much like his own self, was abandoned, and his loneliness echoed. Through it all, though, he was warm, deliriously so. It felt good sometimes, terrible others, but through it all, it anchored him. 

In the morning, his body awoke several moments before his consciousness did. He felt hollow and spent, but the warmth bolstered him. Gradually, his mind aligned with the physical world, and he opened his eyes to bright, piercing sunlight. The curtains in his room had been pulled open and tied, assumedly by Kakashi, who was curled up beside him, head on the flat of his stomach, sleeping noiselessly. His body looked too tense, his limbs too still. He was a viper, coiled to strike. Iruka jostled him, unnerved. Kakashi still did not move a muscle, but his eyes sprung immediately open, both of them. He stared forward for a fraction of a second before honing in on Iruka, who felt his insides squirm unpleasantly. 

“You’re awake,” Kakashi observed, almost as if he didn’t believe it.

“I am,” Iruka confirmed, unsure as to why Kakashi was so… upset?

Kakashi moved in one fluid motion, drawing himself up on his knees and staring down at Iruka. It was only then that Iruka noticed that Kakashi had been maintaining a weak grip on his wrist, thumb and middle finger pressed to his pulse points. 

“I was in the nightmare again?” 

The Sharingan spun eerily. “You don’t know?”

“It wasn’t like the other night,” Iruka offered.

“Tell me.”

Iruka yawned. “Does it have to be right this second?”

Kakashi leaned into Iruka with his entire body. If Iruka didn’t know Kakashi better, he would’ve found the other’s body language to be downright menacing. Still, the Sharingan spun. 

“Alright, alright,” Iruka agreed, his voice still a little raspy from sleep. “Though, to be honest, I don’t know what I dreamed.”

“What was it like?”

“It was like,-” Iruka paused, biting at the hangnail on his thumb again, “Honestly, it was a little bit like a bad trip.”

The Sharingan spun faster. “Were you upset?”

Iruka felt a quiver high in his stomach. “Yes.”

“What did you feel?”

“Kakashi, you’re freaking me out.”

Kakashi leaned back on his heels, working the muscles in his face to loosen them up. “Sorry.”

“Force of habit?” Iruka asked.

“More like,-” Kakashi began, then stopped. 

Realization dawned. “You were worried.”

Kakashi’s expression tightened. “Of course I was worried.”

“It seems like,” Iruka said, “The genjutsu isn’t meant to kill, only to weaken. Right?” He watched Kakashi nod, somewhat hesitantly. “So, it isn’t going to physically harm me. Nothing to worry about.”

“It’s harming you,” Kakashi insisted, “Physically weakening you is harmful. Spiritually, too, probably. Have you tried using jutsu yet, at all?”

Iruka shook his head. “Might be worth looking into.”

“We can assess your strength later today, see how much you’re still capable of,” Kakashi suggested, tone conveying his doubt. He rose up from the bed and crossed to the window.

Iruka cocked his head. “I have class today.” Then, as if noticing the daylight, unnaturally bright for so early in the morning, it hit him. “Kakashi, I’m late for class!”

Kakashi turned. “A messenger came earlier this morning. You were out cold; you didn’t even notice him teleport into your living room. Tsunade has ordered a week of paid vacation for you from the Academy and the Mission Desk both.”

Iruka sprung out of bed. Or, well, he tried to. He fumbled with the sheets, limbs not cooperating, and ended up almost falling out of his bed. Kakashi reached out an arm and steadied him. “Iruka, relax. The genjutsu has been draining your chakra. I’ve been monitoring you all night and morning. It’s an incredibly slow drain, but after three nights, you’re starting to feel the real effects of it.”

Iruka knew his expression had to look wild. The thought terrified him. “How much chakra do I have left?” he demanded, feeling frantic. Chakra drain, left unchecked, meant inevitable hospitalization. Already he could barely summon the strength just to get out of bed! Just thinking about moving made him feel tired. He squeezed his eyes shut, picturing his pathways and trying to form an image of his chakra reserves. 

“Enough,” was Kakashi’s cryptic reply, “You’re still tired from the night, so you’ll be able to get up and move around soon. It drained steadily overnight, but as you woke up, you were beginning to restore some.”

Iruka fixed Kakashi with a questioning look. “How do you know? Did you even sleep, Kakashi?”

Kakashi shrugged.

The two stared at each other in silence before Iruka, resigning himself, sighed and held out his hand. “Would you help me up?” He hated asking, hated how weak he sounded.

Kakashi merely accepted his offered hand and leaned his weight down on his heels so Iruka could use it to pull himself out of bed. He wobbled on his feet for a second, but thankfully Kakashi did not try to steady him again, just let him get his bearings on his own, albeit with a hawkish, watchful eye pinned on him. 

Iruka gave him a soft smile. “Want breakfast? If I’m not going into work this morning, we might as well eat together.”

Kakashi smiled, and Iruka hadn’t noticed before how the jagged scar that cleaved his face pulled at his lips, made his smile uneven. Instead of being unattractive, though, it made him look rakish, unkempt, and dangerously handsome. Iruka knew he was being rude, but he allowed himself to fixate on the scar long enough to appreciate the way it puckered the skin of Kakashi’s lips, the pink skin unnaturally shiny and white where it had been sliced. It was a really nice scar, although he was entirely certain Kakashi would disagree. 

“I’ll just get a quick shower,” Iruka told him, shaking himself out of his thoughts. 

Kakashi leaned in and kissed him. It was a quick kiss, soft and considerate. Truthfully, it was more of a greeting or a gesture of acceptance than a real kiss. A physical communication of Kakashi’s agreement to Iruka’s proposed plan. Nonetheless, it stirred in Iruka memories of last night, of skin on skin and swallowing Kakashi’s long, hard shaft down his throat, as well as conjured implications of a domesticity with Kakashi that Iruka could not allow himself to dream of. The way Kakashi had just feathered a light, chaste kiss across Iruka’s unsuspecting yet willing lips - as if it was the most natural thing in the world - made Iruka want to believe that this man was someone he could have, but he was not so naive. 

Kakashi was a wild animal. He was Konoha’s most dangerous and ruthless shinobi. A killing machine, a weapon of war for their country. He was the Master of a Thousand Jutsu, and each one was forged in pain and hardship earned on the battlefield. He was not a man that would kiss Iruka while he cooked an evening meal, hug him goodbye in the morning before work, or hold his hand while shopping for groceries. Iruka’s heart clenched as he longed for him to be, but he knew that was not the reality of the situation. Kakashi was here because Tsunade had ordered him to be. They were not in love, no matter how much Iruka’s heart was pretending they were. Kisses like the ones Kakashi had just given him were dangerous because they allowed Iruka to pretend that this situation was permanent. Even though Kakashi had feelings for him, even though Iruka was perfectly willing to entertain those feelings, he kept forgetting one hard-and-fast fact of his life: he was a pre-genin schoolteacher who hadn’t been good enough to make Jonin. The only reason Kakashi was briefly interested in someone like him was because he’d done a passable job of patching him up, fed him regular meals, and sucked his dick like his life depended on it. The mystery of the genjutsu he was under - one meant for Kakashi, because Iruka was not important enough to be anyone’s target - was by far the greatest force attracting Kakashi to him. Once Kakashi had solved the puzzle, he would be gone, and Iruka was alarmed to realize that the hole he would leave was a large one.

Iruka stumbled from the bedroom to the bathroom and clumsily turned on the tap. He didn’t have the patience to draw a bath, really, so he settled for a shower. The hot water reminded him of the warmth he’d felt during his dream, but he really didn’t want to dwell on it. He was feeling uncommonly melancholy, and thinking about the dream would only make it worse. Fumbling hands reached for the bar of soap and, after knocking it to the floor, picked it up in slightly shaky fingers. Iruka lathered the bar in his hands. The green bubbles frothed up into a rich foam that Iruka spread over his arms, massaging the lye into his skin slowly and thoroughly. He felt awful from the night, and for some reason, the hot water was only making him feel worse. As he ran soapy hands over his face, his skull suddenly exploded with pain, and he gasped aloud, doubling over and dropping the bar. The soap stung his eyes from where he’d gotten some in them, but it was also stinging his lips and nose, and when he gasped again, he felt his lungs constrict like they’d been clamped shut. His last thoughts before he lost consciousness were of Kakashi’s gentle, affirming kiss. Then, everything was blackness.


	8. Chapter 8

Kakashi was in the room before Iruka hit the ground, leaping into the shower in spite of the water. He caught him at his shoulders, preventing his head from hitting the hard porcelain. 

“Iruka, what happened?” he demanded, reaching out a hand to turn off the tap. 

Iruka didn’t answer. 

“Shit, shit,” Kakashi cursed under his breath. He hauled Iruka out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, placing him gingerly on the bed and checking his vitals. His pulse was quick. A nightmare, then, but he hadn’t been asleep. The genjutsu was getting stronger. Kakashi cursed again, hating himself for what he had to do but doing it anyway. He raised his hand and delivered a sharp blow to the side of Iruka’s face, in the same spot he’d hit him the other day. 

Iruka didn’t stir. 

Kakashi slipped his hitai-ate up onto his forehead proper. Yes, Iruka was definitely in another nightmare. His chakra pulsed far too slowly through his pathways. When Iruka was in a nightmare, his pulse would race but his chakra would slow. Kakashi pressed two fingers to the back of his neck, disturbed by the clamminess of Iruka’s skin, and experimentally pushed some of his chakra through Iruka’s body. He watched it circulate a few times before pushing more and then more of his own chakra into the pathway. His chakra was acting like a shot of adrenaline on Iruka’s, speeding it up and bringing it into regularity. Once he determined that his and Iruka’s chakra, combined, was circulating at roughly Iruka’s normal rate, he struck him again.

Iruka’s eyes flew open, and he gasped as if surfacing for air. His eyes fixed on Kakashi, expression terrified and wild. 

Kakashi leaned in and kissed him, hard. His grip on Iruka’s biceps was entirely too tight, and the hand that had been funneling chakra into him was now bracing his neck, hold him into the kiss, as if worried Iruka’s head would fall off his shoulders otherwise. Kakashi kissed Iruka like a drowning man fighting for breath. He felt a wetness on his cheeks and stopped, pulling away to find out which of them was crying. They both were. 

Iruka’s face was striking. Expressive brown eyes told Kakashi he’d been scared, so fucking scared, Kakashi. His relief was plain, but with it came waves of hysterics at what almost was. When Kakashi pulled away, Iruka followed him with his lips, desperate to touch. He tucked his head down beneath Kakashi’s chin and dragged in shaking breaths, searching for any kind of composure. Eventually, it worked, and he raised his head again to look into Kakashi’s eyes - one gray, the other red.

“I was dying,” he said. 

Kakashi released a breath he’d been holding. 

Iruka was looking up at him with watery eyes. “You saved me.”

Kakashi’s eyes dipped downwards, unable to look at Iruka now.

Iruka raised a hand, tugging at Kakashi’s collar to bring his gaze back. “I need to ask you.”

“Ask what?” 

Kakashi held his breath as Iruka shut his eyes and shuddered. Then, hand still gripping his collar, he tugged Kakashi downwards until his ear met Iruka’s lips. Voice one notch underneath a whisper, Iruka breathed out the ghost of a sentence: “The bar soap.”

Kakashi’s eyes widened, then narrowed. His mind moved like lightning, piecing together what Iruka already had. They hadn’t been careful before with their conversations about the genjutsu, but it hadn’t seemed to affect their enemy’s strategy. If the caster was watching them from afar, as he likely was, the fact that he hadn’t already severed his connection to, evidently, Iruka’s goddamn bar soap meant that he didn’t think their trying to track him down was problematic. And he’d been right, largely because they hadn’t been on the right track. If chemicals in Iruka’s soap were poisoning him and not food like they’d been discussing, the genjutsu caster would have no need to pull the plug on his operation. After all, Kakashi would - theoretically - have to shower at some point. Their enemy had probably wanted them to follow the ingestion thread, even. Kakashi’s list and investigating the academy would have distracted them from the truth. 

“Will you?” Iruka pleaded, his voice breaking. But his eyes were strong. He stared at Kakashi with an intensity that did not match his expression. “Will you take me to the hospital?”

Kakashi caught on. “You won’t be safe if you’re out of my sight,” he argued, gathering Iruka up in his arms possessively. 

“Please, Kakashi, I’m afraid.”

Though he knew, at this point, that Iruka was playing into a cover story, he couldn’t stop his heart from smashing like broken fucking glass at how pitiful Iruka sounded. He indulged in it. He had no other choice. “Of course, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to Iruka’s sweat-matted hair before standing - Iruka still tucked safely into his arms - and carrying him out of the bedroom before both of them disappeared in a puff of smoke.

They reappeared in the waiting room of the hospital. Kakashi set Iruka down on his feet, where he remained, somewhat surprisingly. He then flagged down a nurse, briefly explained a half-fabricated version of the situation, and ordered her to summon Tsunade. Iruka was shoved into a wheelchair and taken away. Kakashi watched him go before taking off for the nearest training grounds. There was no time to waste. He needed to train. 

Kakashi worked his body to its absolute limit doing something he hadn’t done in years: drills. Usually, he reserved drills for punishing his teams for sloppy performance, but he needed to get sweaty and didn’t have time to call Gai to spar. So, he climbed trees, ran wind sprints, practiced combat rolls, did everything he could think of as fast as he could think of it, and by the end of a half an hour, he was ready for the sweet embrace of death. His uniform was completely soaked through with sweat, and he knew he would need to eat several dozen bowls of ramen to get the calories back. He walked gingerly back towards Iruka’s apartment, his mind running wind sprints of their own as he calculated a plan. 

Once inside, he immediately shed his clothing and turned on the taps. He didn’t really want to have to fight an enemy shinobi naked, but what choice did he have? It would be suspicious if he left his pants or his weapons on in the shower. Suddenly, the full of his target’s plan hit him. The genjutsu weakened the victim night after night until, just as Iruka had done, he collapsed in the shower, unarmed and unconscious. There was virtually no chance of survival - provided the target was alone. But even people living together used the same shower. Their saving grace had been Kakashi’s specific feelings on being unarmed. His shower in the barracks was booby-trapped to hell - other shinobi knew which of the communal showers was for Kakashi’s use only (they could detect it by the heavy, unmistakable presence of gunpowder and explosive seals). Iruka’s bathroom was not combat ready, and it had seemed terribly presumptuous to arm another man’s shower, therefore Kakashi hadn’t used it.

Now, he found himself holding his breath as he stepped beyond the cloth curtain into the cold spray of water. His skin erupted in goosebumps that were only partly a result of the temperature. Every nerve in his body was snapped to attention, spring-loaded with adrenaline and ready to let loose a barrage of jutsu on the breath of a second’s notice. Though he’d pushed himself to near-exhaustion on the training field, his anxiety had breathed new life into his muscles. 

He eyed the bar of soap warily, running hands through his sweat-soaked hair to help the water soak it to the roots. The bar was a plain, unassuming square of light-green, smelling faintly of mint and still covered in suds from when Iruka had used it less than an hour ago. Kakashi reached for it, lathered it in his hands for a few moments, and then began, slowly, to wash. He had to hope whoever was casting the jutsu would attack now, though he wouldn’t be nearly as weak as Iruka had been. It was possible that the caster would wait. He believed Kakashi lived in this apartment full-time, but if he also believed Kakashi bathed once a week (as he’d accidentally demonstrated), now would be the time to strike. 

Kakashi mentally berated himself. This plan had far too many holes in it. He was being careless. Tsunade would never have allowed him to go through with this if he’d run his plan by her first. She’d tell him it was flawed. She’d point out that using himself as bait was idiotic. Doing exactly what the caster had wanted him to do all along was idiotic. Stupid, stupid, why had he thought this was a good idea? 

Focus. He needed to focus. He couldn’t feel the effects of the jutsu on his body at all. This was not working. Idiot enemy shinobi, using a flawed weapon that didn’t even work properly. No, stop it. Just focus, you idiot. Focus. 

Kakashi breathed deeply, washed the rest of the soap off of his body, and shut off the taps. He was still in control. He could make this moronic, half-baked plan work. For Iruka’s sake, he needed to finish this as quickly as possible. 

He went into the bedroom and laid down, tucking a kunai underneath his pillow. He always did this, so it wouldn’t arouse suspicion to do so now. Closing his eyes, Kakashi conjured up everything he remembered about Iruka’s vitals when he would monitor them night after night. He’d spent hours studying the way the other man’s chakra moved, how his blood flowed, the regularity of his heartbeat and breathing. Under the influence of the genjutsu, his chakra slowed to a crawl. His heartbeat raced when in the nightmare. Kakashi replicated this in his own body as best as he could. Controlling his chakra was not difficult, nor was controlling his heartbeat. The difficulty was in making one slow down while the other sped up. These conditions were barely ever practical, since relaxation required both to slow and adrenaline caused both to accelerate. Kakashi concentrated first on slowing his chakra, which was similar to controlling it to do something like walk on water or climb a tree. He breathed deeply and focused. It took whole minutes, but eventually his chakra was seeping sluggishly through his pathways. It made him feel strange. He’d never made it so slow on purpose before. He monitored himself carefully for a while longer, wanting to ensure he felt safe and in control before he moved on.

When he was satisfied, Kakashi next set about increasing his heart rate. To do so without physical activity meant he had to put himself under mental stress, so he thought of Iruka. Iruka helpless in his nightmares. Iruka in danger because of him. Iruka looking up at him that night under the stars, his face illuminated by the fullness of the moon. Iruka on his knees, tears in his eyes as he swallowed Kakashi’s cum. Iruka in his dreams, on his back, giving Kakashi so much more than he would ever ask him for. He started to sweat. 

A hand closed around his throat. 

Kakashi’s eyes flew open at the same time as his body snapped into action. He gripped his attacker with his legs to flip their positions, but the enemy shinobi was out of his reach by the time he moved. Shit, he was slow. He found the kunai under his pillow just in time to use it to parry a blow that came straight for his neck. Kakashi opened his Sharingan eye and barely caught the next blow that came for him. 

His opponent was young, was Kakashi’s first impression. He dodged a series of kicks, catching the last one and pushing it back. The shinobi was knocked off balance, and Kakashi used the opportunity to advance, slashing with his kunai and catching his enemy on the wrist. An arc of blood told Kakashi he’d hit where he was aiming. He retreated a few paces, feeling dizzy. The Sharingan was drawing chakra faster than it could flow. He shut his eye. He would need several more seconds before he could use it again. 

Kakashi raised his arms to block his face as his enemy re-engaged. A punch, aimed low, connected with his stomach and doubled him over. He rolled managing to dodge a first kick but not a second. A well-placed foot connected with his side, sending him sprawling. He leapt to his feet but stayed low. The shinobi was likewise positioned, fists raised and looking for another opening. He was short and stocky, which meant he wouldn’t lose his balance easily. He guarded himself well. Kakashi wouldn’t find an opportunity unless he made one.

A volley of shuriken came Kakashi’s way, all of which he dodged. Moving around was helping his chakra start to flow normally again. The more he and the shinobi traded blows, the more he felt like himself. Kakashi advanced, opting for pure taijutsu largely for the sake of Iruka’s furniture, and felt out his opponent’s close-combat style. His enemy kept himself very closely guarded, not risking an attack for fear of leaving himself open. Kakashi wondered how he expected to win. Then, more shuriken came flying towards him. His aim was good, and Kakashi dodged all but the one that grazed his face, cutting along the length of his cheekbone. So, he wouldn’t risk Kakashi getting close enough to strike him with fist or kunai. His plan was to poke holes in him until he died. Kakashi’s eyes narrowed and he paused, calculating his final move.

The enemy ninja drew more shuriken, this time throwing a barrage with each hand. Kakashi moved swiftly, but instead of merely dodging out of the way, he advanced. One embedded itself into his shoulder, but he barely acknowledged it. He’d gotten past his guard. He flashed his kunai out and caught his enemy in the stomach. It was over as soon as Kakashi felt his blade sink into the soft flesh. The wound was deep. It drenched Kakashi’s arm in hot, sticky blood. The enemy stumbled back, attempting a retreat, but he was much slower now. Kakashi was already throwing him to the ground, his kunai to his throat. 

“How did you escape?” he growled. 

His enemy opened his mouth to speak. Blood bubbled through his lips. 

“How did you get through the gate?” He shook the shinobi by his neck, smacking his skull against the floor repeatedly. “How did you find me?”

“Fuck you, Hatake,” he spat. Literally. Flecks of blood flew from his mouth onto Kakashi’s wrist.

Kakashi’s eyes narrowed, and he gave him one final shake, knocking him out with the force of the blow. He then rose, grabbed some medical tape from the nightstand, and shoddily patched up the shinobi’s stomach. If he ruined any more of the carpet, Iruka would be angry later. Kakashi eyed the pools of blood already soaking into the once-white carpet. Well. 

He slipped on some pants and a black surgical mask (kept in his tactical jacket in the event his regular mask was damaged or missing), hoisted his prisoner over his shoulder, and made for Hokage Tower, where he dumped the unconscious enemy ninja at Tsunade’s feet. 

She wrinkled her nose, but Kakashi could tell she was pleased. She charged her ANBU with taking the prisoner to Ibiki and also a medic nin. They wouldn’t get information if he died, after all. Which he almost definitely would.

“Really, Kakashi? A gut wound? Don’t you care about finishing your mission? Does intel mean nothing to you?” 

Kakashi scratched his head. “Well, you see, Tsunade-sama-,”

“And why are you shirtless?” she demanded, pointing an accusing finger at him, “This is no way to appear in front of your Hokage.”

Kakashi gave her a lopsided grin. “Forgive me, Tsunade-sama, I-,”

“I don’t actually want an answer, Hatake,” Tsunade moaned, cutting him off with a wave of her hand, “You’re going to write me a full mission report right now. And Umino will make sure you actually do it.” She snapped her polished fingers, and Shizune, who had been standing quietly to the side, went out into the hallway and returned with Iruka in tow. “The two of you need to put together a full mission brief, spare no detail.”

Kakashi knew, logically, that Iruka was fine. He’d left him at the hospital, and he hadn’t even been physically injured. Still, he couldn’t help cracking open his Sharingan eye to confirm that, yes, his chakra was flowing normally. Other than the bags under his eyes, the deep scowl on his face, and slight shaking of his limbs, Iruka was normal. Kakashi smiled. “Iruka, it’s-,”

“Save it!” Iruka bellowed in a tone of voice that took Kakashi straight back to his Academy days. Iruka marched up to him and jabbed a finger into his chest angrily. “I can’t believe you, Kakashi! How could you do something so dangerous?!”

“I thought we were in agreement about the plan?” Kakashi asked, confused. 

“I didn’t mean for you to leave me at the hospital, asshole!” Iruka threw his hands into the air, the picture of exasperation. “You were supposed to stay so we could formulate a plan! But the medic nin wouldn’t listen to me! I kept telling them you were going off to do something brave and stupid and poorly planned, but they kept shrugging it off!”

Kakashi blushed. Iruka thought he was brave.

“And what the hell, is that a shuriken in your shoulder?!” Iruka’s fingers hovered over the metal, still sticking out of Kakashi’s chest. 

“Oh,” Kakashi said, “Yes.”

Iruka made a strangled screaming noise and turned away, hands over his mouth and nose. 

Kakashi fingered the weapon. He figured it would be unwise to draw it out now, as he would lose a lot of blood right onto the Hokage’s office floor. But to leave it in appeared to be upsetting Iruka. He turned to Tsunade.

Tsunade sighed and stood, crossing the room to him. She focused chakra into her hands and, in one practiced motion, yanked on the metal. Kakashi grunted but otherwise maintained composure. Tsunade’s hand clapped down on the wound, and that actually made Kakashi shudder a little. He did not want to be insubordinate, but he was suspicious that Tsunade was being purposefully graceless with him. He supposed he deserved it. While the muscles in his shoulder knitted back together - an unpleasant sensation not unlike the crawling of worms - he watched Iruka’s face. Iruka had turned back towards him, and his expression was twisting from relief to anger to sadness faster than Kakashi believed a person could have those emotions. 

Iruka then looked towards the door. “You got him, though.”

“I got him,” Kakashi confirmed, “He was weak from staking out your apartment for so long after our first battle, I think. He was ill-prepared for a second.”

“Still, he landed one hit,” Iruka pointed out, sounding strangely hollow. 

Kakashi shrugged with his good shoulder. “It gave me an opening. It was a tactical sacrifice.”

“Hatake, you make an alarming amount of tactical sacrifices,” Tsunade commented. She gave his shoulder one final pat. “You’re good to go. Take Umino somewhere quiet. Deal with his emotions. Finish my report by tomorrow morning. Ibiki should have something for us by then.” The smile she gave him was grudging and tired. “Good work, shinobi.”

She made a shoo-ing motion with her hands as she returned to her desk, and Kakashi took the cue. He made for the door and was pleased to sense Iruka dutifully following him. They walked in silence out of the tower before reaching a crossroads. One road led to Iruka’s apart, and the other led to Kakashi’s.

“Maybe we ought to find a room somewhere in the Academy?” Kakashi suggested.

Iruka shook his head. “Classes.”

“Oh.”

“What’s wrong with my apartment?” Iruka asked.

“It’s probably safe,” Kakashi said, “But I’d want a team to sweep the area and a cleaning crew to take care of your bedroom before you go back.”

Iruka grimaced. Kakashi watched his face carefully and was surprised that, instead of the anger he saw bubbling up in Iruka’s expression, Iruka responded with a measure of rationality in his voice. “Why don’t we go to your apartment, Kakashi?”

Kakashi frowned behind his mask. The mask no longer fooled Iruka, though. Somehow, Iruka was able to discern his emotions by his eyes. Well, eye. There would be no more lying to Umino Iruka. “My apartment is not fit for company.”

Iruka stepped in close, pressing the palm of his hand against Kakashi’s newly healed shoulder. “I think you’re hiding something.”

“That’s a fair assumption.”

Iruka took his hand. “Come on, Kakashi.”

Kakashi raised his eyes to the sky then back down to Iruka. “Okay.”

They began to walk. Much as he had done before he’d gotten undressed in Iruka’s bathroom, Kakashi agonized over what he was about to do. It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust Iruka. That was not the case in the least. But, no one had set foot in Kakashi’s apartment other than Kakashi himself except for, probably, that time Uchiha Itachi had laid him out flat for goddamn ever. His friends had come to visit him, and they’d berated him for still living in the barracks. He wasn’t a student anymore, and he’d retired from ANBU. He was on active duty, but he wasn’t a destitute Chuunin. He had plenty of money to get a better place. There was no reason for him to still be living in that depressingly sanitary cubicle of uniformity. And yet, he did. Anywhere else would’ve looked like home, and Kakashi was profoundly uncomfortable with the notion of home. 

When they approached the complex - tall, clinical, and uniform white - Iruka raised his eyebrows. He didn’t say anything, though. Didn’t chide him or tease him or express his disbelief. He simply accepted the surprise quietly. Kakashi was grateful.

They reached his room, and Iruka settled down at the desk, leaving Kakashi to sit on the bed. Those were the only two seating options. The desk and the bed were on opposite sides of the room, but even so, they were only an arm’s length from each other. 

“So,” Iruka began, untucking a blank scroll from the inside of his jacket, “I guess we ought to start writing.”

Kakashi nodded. “Tsunade has the initial mission on file already, so we have to start with the first time you had a nightmare.”

Iruka nodded, uncapping a pen with his teeth. 

“The first night I stayed in your apartment.”

Iruka gave him a confused looking, spitting the pen cap out so he could talk. “It was the second night, I thought?”

Kakashi shook his head. His stomach clenched at the remembering. “You had a nightmare the first night I was there. I didn’t know if it would be appropriate to wake you up, so I didn’t.” But he did sit sentry outside Iruka’s door, his heart breaking with every agonized moan and pitiful cry the other man made. Knowing what he did now about the nightmares, he would never have left Iruka to face that alone. It was his sloppy actions on his mission that brought the enemy to Iruka’s door, and it was his feelings for Iruka that placed his life in danger. The enemies meant for Kakashi. The genjutsu meant to kill Kakashi. “I’m sorry.”

Iruka had a strange look on his face. Like concern mixed with mild horror. Kakashi raised a hand to his face, and his fingers came away wet. 

Iruka kicked himself out of his seat, sending the chair clattering into the desk. He knelt down in front of Kakashi, knees on either side of his hips, and hugged his face to his chest. Kakashi pushed Iruka’s tactical jacket off of his shoulders, mostly not wanting to be stabbed by more shuriken hidden away in his pockets. Iruka was murmuring softly into his hair, his fingers combing through the silver locks. Kakashi shivered at the touch. “I’m sorry, Iruka.”

“You’re okay,” Iruka told him soothingly, “It’s alright.”

Kakashi looked up at him, his hands braced on the strong, lean muscle of Iruka’s lower back. “I care about you, Iruka.”

Iruka smiled. “I know you do, Kakashi.”

Kakashi frowned. “No, I mean, I love you, Iruka.”

Iruka’s lips parted, his eyes surprised and, suddenly, sparkling with unshed tears.

Kakashi cursed himself. “Shit. Iruka, I’m sorry, I didn’t-,”

Iruka cut him off with a kiss, pressing his entire body against Kakashi’s and forcing them both down onto the bed. Kakashi’s back hit the mattress, Iruka clinging to him like his life depended on it. Kakashi had no goddamn idea what was going on, but he decided that he wouldn’t question it. Iruka was emotional and mysterious, and if he decided the proper response was, oh God, was what he was doing with his tongue and hands, then Kakashi was absolutely not in a position to stop him. 

“You’re so crazy, Kakashi, seriously,” Iruka was saying as he stripped himself of, oh, wow, of all his clothes with the efficiency of someone who could not spare a second longer to be dressed. “You’re so goddamn crazy.” Kakashi’s hands touched every part of him, only revisiting the places that made Iruka curse breathlessly. “I was worried about you, you know, even though I shouldn’t have been because you’re, oh fuck, you’re you.” Kakashi reversed their positions, laying Iruka down on his back and using his mouth to explore the faint lines of his abdominal muscles. “Y-You’re Sharingan Kakashi, of course you’d be fine, but, oh my GOD-!” Kakashi’s hands tugged experimentally on Iruka’s shaft, already impressively hard. He licked his lips, wondering if he’d be half as good at it as Iruka was. 

He opened his Sharingan eye, staring up Iruka’s body into his beautiful, emotionally expressive eyes. Iruka’s entire face was flushed, and he was babbling a sort of stream of consciousness litany about how capable and strong Kakashi was, which was a huge fucking turn-on, and punctuating his words with gentle, helpless thrusts of his hips. His hands were clutching at the sheets of Kakashi’s bed so hard his knuckles were white. It was the most perfect thing Kakashi had ever seen in his life, and he’d lived longer than anyone had expected him to. As the Sharingan swirled, Kakashi took Iruka’s head into his mouth and copied, move-for-move, everything Iruka had done to him the other night.

If Kakashi had been embarrassed about the noises he made during sex, that was absolutely nothing compared to the way Iruka positively screamed for him. The man had no concept of his own volume, moaning expletives and praise with equal reverence and volume. Kakashi had wards, obviously, so it wasn’t likely that any of his neighbors would hear. No, he would never have asked Iruka to stop making those beautiful sounds, not for anything. 

Oral was more difficult than he’d realized. He’d accidentally grazed Iruka’s skin with his molars a few times, which he knew was probably not pleasant. He was also unable to take Iruka as deeply as Iruka had taken him, which was, frankly, disappointing for them both. He gagged gracelessly every time he tried, which was pretty embarrassing. Of all the things he was good at, why did his skill stop at this? Still, Iruka didn’t seem to be complaining. The only complaint he’d received was in the form of Iruka whining, “Don’t fucking stop, please!” a few seconds before he climaxed. And, oh God, did he climax. Iruka was explosive. He gripped Kakashi’s head and forced himself entirely down Kakashi’s throat as he came, hard and fast and loud. Kakashi gagged so hard that tears sprung to his eyes, but he wouldn’t have stopped Iruka for anything. He let Iruka ride out his climax, controlling his breathing with all the willpower he had left. God, he loved this man. He really fucking loved him. 

Iruka was staring at him again. A shaking hand reached for him and gripped him by the bicep. Kakashi obediently allowed himself to be dragged up for what had to be a really disgusting kiss from Iruka’s perspective. He was flushed and panting, his pupils blown wide. 

“I love you, too, Kakashi.”

They spent the rest of the day like this, wrapped up in each other’s arms and declaring their love like it was the first time either of them had used the words. And for Kakashi, at least, it was. He’d loved people before, but he’d never told them so. And Iruka was so different. He was wild where Kakashi was controlled, expressive where he was reserved. But Iruka was patient and gentle and didn’t care that Kakashi was fucked up. He didn’t care at all. He loved Kakashi. Umino Iruka loved Hatake Kakashi. He couldn’t stop saying it. Iruka went into detail, telling Kakashi all the things he loved about him. Kakashi listened and clung to every word like it was his only tether to the physical world. Iruka loved so many things about him, and the words poured from him like a dam had burst inside of him and he physically could not stop. Iruka loved how dedicated Kakashi was to his friends and his country. Iruka loved how Kakashi cared for his students, even if it looked very different from how Iruka cared for them. Iruka loved how weirdly efficient Kakashi was, dealing with problems like they weren’t problems at all. Iruka loved his methodical capability.

Iruka, weirdly enough, also loved how dangerous Kakashi was, loved his reputation. He found it exciting to think about all the different ways Kakashi could hurt or kill him if he wanted to, knowing he wouldn’t. That one was truly more of a kink than anything else, but Kakashi had never had anyone speak of his bloody reputation in such terms. Iruka blushed as he explained in an embarrassed rush that he hadn’t meant to glorify Kakashi’s ugly past, but it was true. Everyone in the village told stories about Kakashi’s ruthless power, and Iruka thought it was hot. Really hot, apparently. Kakashi would have to experiment with that particular feeling in the future. 

When the sun began slipping low in the sky, Kakashi ordered them ramen and had it delivered right to his door, something he had never done in the past. No one knew where he lived, and he liked to keep it that way. But he was wholly unwilling to let Iruka put clothes on, which left him with very little choice in the matter of how they would eat dinner. It was indulgent and it felt reckless, but then, loving Iruka was the same way.

Kakashi didn’t know how to say the things Iruka had said to him. He couldn’t put the feelings in his heart into words as descriptive as Iruka’s were. He felt the same way about a lot of things, but the mental block around his emotions that had been in place for so long prevented him from articulating much. He managed to tell Iruka, through the lump in his throat and the vice around his heart, that he wanted to protect him. He mostly repeated the words “I love you”. Iruka said it was okay. The man was a goddamn saint. He knew, without Kakashi having to say anything, that no matter how much he wanted to tell Iruka all the things he’d been thinking for literal years now, he just didn’t have the capacity. And Iruka said it was okay. Iruka did the talking for them, articulated Kakashi’s feelings for him, accepted him for the fucked-up excuse for a lover he was. Iruka kissed every inch of Kakashi’s body just to make sure he truly understood how loved he was. Kakashi hadn’t known how much he needed it. 

They didn’t get to the mission report until so late into the night, some would consider it the next morning.


	9. Chapter 9

Iruka awoke to the sound of breaking glass. He was up like a shot, kunai in hand, but the chakra signature of the intruder was familiar. He dropped his guard. “Kakashi?”

“What the hell?” Sure enough, it was Kakashi’s voice that cut through the darkness. 

“What you you mean, what the hell?!” Iruka demanded, bringing his kunai back up and advancing, “Why the hell did you come through the window? The closed window?”

Kakashi brought his hands up, gesturing wildly. “I would’ve thought you’d have left it open! You knew I would be coming back from the mission.”

“Yes but it’s winter!” Iruka protested, shivering as if to punctuate his statement. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he raked his eyes over Kakashi’s form. “Are you hurt?”

“Ah, no.” Kakashi’s voice grew softer. “No, I’m fine.”

Iruka sighed a long-suffering sigh. “Come into the bathroom. Let me take a look at you.”

He took Kakashi’s suspiciously slippery hand and led him into the bathroom, flicking on the light. Kakashi seemed okay, if not for the blood dripping through his bandages, down his hands, and onto Iruka’s white tile floor. He had bags under his bloodshot eyes and wasn’t focusing on Iruka that terribly well. Iruka used his kunai to cut away the wrappings on Kakashi’s hands and forearms, revealing several lacerations that had been held back together with field stitches on his forearms. His hands were covered in tiny cuts so fresh there was no way they weren’t from punching the window in. He raised an eyebrow at Kakashi. 

“It’s not much,” Kakashi insisted. 

Iruka popped the clasps on Kakashi’s tactical vest and slid it off of his shoulders. He attempted to pull Kakashi’s navy blue shirt off next but stopped the moment he noticed the material was resisting, as if stuck to his skin with adhesive. Suspicion, almost omnipresent whenever Kakashi insisted things were fine, flared within Iruka. He sliced the material open, and sure enough, the resistance had been from the fabric clinging to more wounds. The blood had begun to coagulate and scab the wound to the shirt. It was a mess, and Iruka would not be able to tear the rest of the shirt away without hurting Kakashi. “How fresh are these?” Iruka asked. 

Kakashi took an unnerving amount of time to answer. “Thirty hours at most.”

“Hmm,” Iruka hummed, deciding to be angry later. He and Kakashi operated under separate definitions of the word “fine”, and Iruka would not be doing either of them any favors to fight the battle for common ground now. Iruka paused to wash his hands before wetting a cloth with warm water. He pressed it into one of Kakashi’s wounds over the fabric, hoping to soften the scabbing so that it would give more easily. “Everything else go okay, though?” he asked, trying for normalcy.

Kakashi worked his lip through his mask, digging his front teeth into the flesh of his bottom lip in what Iruka had come to know as a nervous tic. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything that’s classified,” Iruka clarified.

Some of the tension left Kakashi’s shoulders and the fine muscles of his forehead. “As well as could be expected. The scroll is safe in the hands of the Kazekage.”

“How is Gaara?” Iruka asked conversationally, pulling experimentally on the fabric of Kakashi’s shirt. 

“Gaara is well. He says he thinks of Naruto often,” Kakashi said, “Maybe we should all go to Sand Country sometime soon, the three of us, to visit him.”

“Like a family vacation?” Iruka asked, amused.

Kakashi’s face flushed, but that could have been from pain, as Iruka had just pulled the cloth from the first wound and was applying a fresh warm compress to another one. He repeated this process twice more before Kakashi was free from his shirt. His lacerations stood out in sharp contrast from his pale skin and older scars. Iruka whistled through his teeth. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind a trip to Sand.”

“Really?” Kakashi sounded bored, but Iruka could read past that nowadays. Iruka handed him a spray bottle of antiseptic, which Kakashi dutifully began to apply to his own wounds. Iruka had found, after months of patching Sharingan Kakashi up, that he was much more willing to sit still for stitches if given a task.

“Sure,” Iruka replied as he threaded a needle, the thinnest one he had, with suture wire, “I could use a vacation, and Sand is nice and warm.”

“Gaara’s estate has a pool.” Kakashi was eyeing the needle nervously because he didn’t think Iruka could see his expression. Kakashi never showed fear or pain unless he thought Iruka wasn’t watching. Iruka was willing to let him continue with this behavior for a time. Baby steps, after all. The man had just admitted to wanting to go on holiday with Naruto, of all people. 

“Could be fun.” Iruka’s needle pierced the first of the wounds. “Would you spray the cuts on your arms? I’m just going to put some bandages over those, unless you’re okay to bandage them yourself? They didn’t look that deep to me.”

“Well,” Kakashi began, then stopped. Iruka looked up to Kakashi’s face and saw him looking at his hands, the tiny cuts oozing trickles of blood. 

“Can you use them?”

“Probably for something simple like wrapping.

 

“Okay. Wash them in the sink and I’ll wrap them for you.”

Kakashi did so obediently, and as Iruka dressed and wrapped his hands, he found slivers of glass inside a few of the cuts. So much for being a genius. “Kakashi, I feel the need to remind you that you have a key to the front door. I can’t keep getting that thing replaced.”

“Like I told you, I thought it would be open.”

“So when it wasn’t, you smashed it in?”

Kakashi’s expression was bashful, his first sign of real remorse. “I like coming and going through the window.”

Iruka would not win this fight, so he chose not to have it. “Your hands should be good now. The bleeding will stop soon. You’re lucky the cuts weren’t that deep.” He picked up his sewing needle, which had been dangling from Kakashi’s abdomen by the suture wire, and set about finishing the first wound while Kakashi slowly wrapped his arms. 

“Stone nin tried to intercept the scroll I was taking back here,” Kakashi said absently, “It was communications between the Kazekage and Tsunade about the upcoming Chuunin exams.”

Iruka felt his heart stop. 

Kakashi continued. “As soon as you’ve finished stitching me up, I’m going straight to Tsunade with the communications.”

“You haven’t delivered the mission scroll yet?” Iruka asked, shocked. 

“I knew you’d want to know,” Kakashi said quietly, “About the exams.”

Iruka was flattered. He was glad Kakashi had decided to tell him. Kids he’d known since they were toddlers were going to be taking that exam in a few months. Konoha had been having minor incidents involving Stone nin ever since Kakashi’s initial mission and the subsequent hunt for the genjutsu caster. Iruka would volunteer to be exam staff first thing in the morning. He needed to have a hand in protecting them, considering both his vested interest in protecting children and experience recognizing Stone genjutsu.

Iruka finished his work quickly, and when he was done, he brought a fresh shirt for Kakashi from the bedroom to put on. Kakashi left through the front door this time, promising to be back within the hour. Until then, since he knew he wouldn’t be getting back to sleep, Iruka swept up the broken glass.

Every nation would be represented at the Chuunin exams, and there hadn’t been an incident at one since Naruto took them. That incident had crippled the village for a long time after. If Stone was planning something on this Chuunin exam, Iruka shuddered to think of what it could be. He could only hope that Tsunade and the other Kages would be able to come up with a plan now that they had a warning sign. 

Faster than Iruka had expected, Kakashi came back, picking his way carefully through the jagged remains of Iruka’s window. 

“What if I get one that slides?” Iruka asked, feeling defeated. 

“That could work,” Kakashi said amiably, crossing the room and gathering Iruka up in a solid hug, his muscles squeezing tightly. 

Iruka returned his embrace, rubbing his back with his fingertips. Behind them, the first rays of the sun were just beginning to peek over the treeline. Iruka sighed. “I guess I probably wouldn’t be able to get to sleep anyway.”

“Do you have classes today?” Kakashi asked. 

Iruka shook his head.

“So, what do you need sleep for?” 

Iruka rolled his eyes. “Sometimes, it’s just nice to get to sleep in, Kakashi.” 

Kakashi made a noncommittal grunting noise. 

Iruka watched Kakashi watching him. Neither of them moved. They’d been living together for a while now, and Iruka had gotten used to the way Kakashi asked for things without actually asking. It wasn’t in his eyes nor his expression, although Iruka had gotten very good at reading those. It was his posture, a forced casual tilt of the shoulders that looked stiff, the somehow expectant coiling of his muscles, tensed but unsure of what to be ready for. Try though he might, Iruka hadn’t been able to coax Kakashi into asking for things he wanted, into voicing his desires. He didn’t want to be a burden, didn’t want to impose his will on the other, didn’t want to act in any way that would even approach a misuse of power. Iruka would have been insulted if it weren’t so glaringly obvious why he did it. 

Kakashi still hated himself, still thought he was a monster. His power was useful, it protected the village, kept Iruka safe, and often excited him sexually, but it was still a loaded gun between them. Kakashi couldn’t escape the thoughts, even dreamed them, horrible nightmares of killing friends, of hurting Iruka. He possessed self-control but didn’t trust it, didn’t trust himself. He still came back from missions with entirely more injuries than necessary, and each time, Iruka cursed and screamed and threw things. Each time, Iruka made it clear what he thought of Kakashi’s behavior, but then he smoothed medicine over the wounds and dressed them with bandages. Kissed him and touched him and pleaded with him not to do it again. Iruka knew things would get better eventually, but the rage and agony he felt in his heart every time Kakashi came home battered and bleeding stemmed from the terrible root of fear that one of these days, Kakashi might not come back, might not come home. 

Iruka grasped Kakashi by the shoulders and shoved him down onto the bed. Kakashi let him, his hands wrapped around Iruka’s wrists to bring him along. Their lips met in a rush of heat and energy, Iruka using his weight to hold Kakashi down and Kakashi laying there, taking it. He pressed him into the mattress, drinking in the feel of his body desperately, like he was trying to drown in the sensation. It always felt like this. Kissing Kakashi made him feel so alive, and he never wanted to stop. 

“Kakashi?” he asked, breathless, his hands already unfastening the buckles on Kakashi’s clothes, “I want to try something.”

Kakashi slid his hands up the back of Iruka’s shirt, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. 

Iruka leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of Kakashi’s ear. “I want you to top me.”

Kakashi shuddered then went still. “You do?”

Iruka hummed in his ear, sliding him out of his clothes with practiced hands. “Yes, Kakashi,” he purred, “Not that I don’t love what we usually do.” Which was the truth. Iruka loved sucking Kakashi’s dick, loved the feeling of cock down his throat. But he also loved the feeling of cock in other places, something they hadn’t done yet, much to Iruka’s chagrin. “But I want you inside me.” He didn’t like to be so forward, so direct with what he wanted, but Kakashi seemed perfectly happy with whatever Iruka wanted to do, never asking for anything himself. It was maddening. “Do you want that?”

There, the question was asked. Iruka looked into Kakashi’s mismatched eyes and watched the emotions battling inside of him. Oh, hell, Kakashi wanted it. He wanted it badly. But he didn’t want to want it. Iruka pressed his palm to the flat of Kakashi’s abdomen and slid it down, teasingly. “You want it, right, Kakashi?” 

Kakashi’s pupils dilated when Iruka licked the palm of his hand. He grasped his shaft and began to stroke, but still Kakashi kept his lips pressed together. His whole body seemed to flush with his desire, red splotches appearing on his chest and face. Yes, he wanted it, but he needed to say it. Iruka was determined to hear it, needed it verbalised, for both their sakes. 

“Kakashi,” Iruka teased, voice light like he was singing. He dropped into a lower register as he began to pump Kakashi’s cock harder. “I need to hear you say it, baby.” He leaned in, catching Kakashi’s bottom lip with his teeth and biting. “Say you want to be in me. You’re allowed to want it. I need you to want it.”

“I want you,” Kakashi managed to gasp. His grip on Iruka’s hips was bruisingly strong, and Iruka felt his own arousal building at the hard touch. 

Iruka threw his clothes off and reached over to his bedside table, retrieving a little vial of lubricant. “Where do you want me, Kakashi?” he urged, holding the bottle up tantalizingly.

Kakashi appeared to find his courage. He rose up to his knees and met Iruka’s lips in a searing kiss, his hands sliding from hips to ass and squeezing, hard. “I want to take you,” he growled, grinding their pelvises together. Iruka gasped, head dropping to Kakashi’s shoulder and biting hard at the flesh of his neck. “I want to be inside you.”

Iruka laid down on his back and took Kakashi’s hand, spreading the lubricant onto his fingers while he watched in fascination. Then, he leaned back on his elbows, legs spread, and watched Kakashi watch him. His expression was unusual, and Iruka thought perhaps he’d taken things too far. Kakashi moved closer and positioned his hand at Iruka’s entrance, but his hesitation to do so struck Iruka with a realization. “Kakashi?” he asked gently, “Have you done this before?”

Kakashi looked pained. “No,” he admitted quietly. 

Kakashi moved to sit back on his heels, but Iruka’s hands drew him forward again. “It’s alright,” he assured him, “Really, I don’t mind.”

Kakashi looked unconvinced. “Do you want to stop?”

“Kakashi Hatake, if you stop, I won’t be responsible for what happens to you,” Iruka joked, and before things could become awkward, he took Kakashi’s hand in his and smeared some of the lube onto his own fingers. He leaned up and kissed Kakashi’s chin, whispering into his skin, “Let me show you what I like.”

He pressed a single finger into his entrance and gasped as Kakashi wrapped a hand around his cock at the same time. Iruka murmured encouragement for the both of them, a steady rhythm of “fuck, yes”, “so good, baby”, and “Kakashi, oh” matched by their movements. Iruka added a second finger and let off a string of curses as Kakashi’s other hand found his balls, cupping the sensitive skin and massaging it gently. He felt the mounting pressure of his release and gasped out a desperate, “Wait!” Kakashi stopped, but Iruka was still talking, quickly, so Kakashi couldn’t even have the chance to assume he’d done something wrong. “It’s too much, I won’t last,” he pleaded, “Give me a minute.”

When Kakashi mercifully pulled away, Iruka reached over into his nightstand drawer and presented Kakashi with a plug, a sort-of silly looking thing, conical in shape and made of purple rubber. Kakashi’s eyebrows rose, but Iruka was already slicking it with the lubricant. “Put this inside me.”

“I thought I was putting this inside you?” Kakashi asked, a hand on his cock.

“You are,” Iruka assured him, somewhat amused at his lover’s naivete. “But you’re too big, baby, I need to get ready for you.”

Kakashi made a low noise in his throat at Iruka’s words and looked as if he would protest. Judging by the swell of his cock, Iruka was sure Kakashi was more than ready, but he wasn’t. Iruka put the lubed-up toy in Kakashi’s hands and spread his legs, knowing he probably looked incredibly wanton but not entirely caring, especially when the rubber began to slide into his body. It was tight, incredibly tight, and Iruka put a hand around the base of his cock to keep from losing it right then and there. Fuck, he just wanted Kakashi in him, but he wanted it to be good, wanted it to last, and that meant he had to be loose. Still, he couldn’t help but whine needily as he felt the last of the toy nestle into him. 

Kakashi was watching him, his jaw slack at the sight Iruka knew he was. He wriggled his hips experimentally, feeling the rubber stretching him, and then coaxed Kakashi forward. “Brace your hands on the wall,” he ordered, both hands stroking Kakashi’s cock, just inches from his face. He brought it to his lips and then took him all the way to the back of his throat in one smooth motion. Kakashi cursed and Iruka gagged, feeling his muscles clench around the toy. The sensation was fucking unreal, the tensing of his muscles causing the toy to stimulate him and drive him closer and closer to the edge with no willpower left to stop it. Oh, that wasn’t good, he wanted to last, but Iruka had all but reached the limit of his self-control. He’d passed it several minutes ago, but he was excellent at lying to himself. He was not excellent at denying himself, however, and Kakashi’s moans of encouragement were absolutely not helping. Iruka moaned around Kakashi as he deep-throated him, lost in the sensation of being so impossibly full. He did it again and again, dragging Kakashi in and out of his mouth, each time making his muscles spasm and then, sweet fucking hell, he was coming, explosively coming, gagging and moaning around Kakashi’s cock. Spit was running down his chin, he knew it in some distant part of his mind, but his vision had gone white and all he could feel was the buzzing of his pleasure in his entire body, thrumming endorphins in his veins. His nails had dug into Kakashi’s skin hard enough to draw little pinpricks of blood, he could smell the copper mixing with the scent of his own sweat and cum, but he couldn’t even be sorry because, oh, the noises Kakashi was making. He was gasping and swearing, evidently able to stop himself from finishing but with incredible difficulty. Iruka pressed a few lazy kisses to his inner thigh, feeling proud of his lover’s self-control, grateful for it, even.

Kakashi was looking at him questioningly, like he didn’t know what to do next. He looked lost, waiting for further instructions. Iruka gathered his strength and slowly slid the toy out, tossing it to the side. “Your turn,” he said, still panting and breathless. He groped for the bottle of lube and spread a generous amount onto Kakashi’s cock. “Fuck, Kakashi, fuck.”

“You sure? You just came,” Kakashi pointed out, rather unnecessarily in Iruka’s opinion. 

“Yes, and I might again,” Iruka said, feeling somewhat hysterical and impatient from the rush of adrenaline and pleasure that had just inundated him, “But you’re definitely going to, oh baby, you need to fuck me now, please.”

Kakashi actually choked on his next apparent protest as Iruka brought his hips up to meet Kakashi’s, pressing the tip of his cock to his entrance. “Fuck me, baby,” he insisted again, wrapping his hands around the back of Kakashi’s neck. 

Kakashi slid in with painstaking slowness, and when he was buried to the hilt, he stopped, looking into Iruka’s eyes with plain, undisguised concern. Iruka mirrored it, suddenly sobered by the other’s strange behavior. “Do you not want this?” he asked self-consciously.

Kakashi flinched. “No, I want it.” His head dropped to Iruka’s shoulder. “Intimacy is…,” he paused, searching for words, “Difficult.”

“Kakashi,” Iruka murmured, rubbing his hands along Kakashi’s back, feeling the scars, old and new, standing out against the otherwise smoothness of his skin, “It’s okay to want things. I want you. Is that wrong?”

“No,” Kakashi agreed, “I want you, too, I just-,”

“You have me,” Iruka interrupted, bringing Kakashi’s head down and pressing their lips together. “You have me, and I’m right where I want to be. I love you, Kakashi.” 

When that failed to make him move, Iruka wound up and cracked Kakashi across the face, hard, with the flat of his palm. Kakashi’s hips instantly snapped forward, startling a choked gasp out of Iruka. “I love you, too Iruka. Fuck, I love you,” he spluttered, suddenly shaking with uncontrolled desire. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but it was the first time it’d been said with so much conviction. Iruka hit him again, several punches and slaps to Kakashi’s chest that only served to push both of them further out of control. Kakashi thrust harder and harder, shaking Iruka and rattling the bed. “Fuck, Iruka, fucking hell.” Kakashi had a tight grip on Iruka’s wrists, and he pinned them above Iruka’s head to keep him from launching another assault. Iruka arched his spine in response, letting out a drawn-out moan that almost smothered Kakashi’s continued oaths. Iruka urged him on with keening and curses, and would’ve used his nails to dig trenches in Kakashi’s fucking back if he could’ve broke his hold. Kakashi fucked him hard, pounding into him with a strength that, until now, Iruka had only really guessed at. Kakashi’s cock pounded into him with bruising force, lost to the haze of lust and violence, and Iruka knew he was getting hard again. Already, he could feel the pressure of another release mounting inside of him. 

He cursed and began to struggle against Kakashi’s grip, but not because he wanted him to let go. Oh, fuck that. “Kakashi, shit, baby yes! Fuck yes, oh my God, baby,” he swore, a fire crackling inside of him and threatening to swallow him whole. He wrapped his legs around Kakashi’s waist, changing the angle in a way that made Kakashi’s next thrust hit him right, “fucking THERE! KAKASHI!”

Kakashi bit down on Iruka’s shoulder to muffle his voice, and he came inside Iruka violently, unrelentingly. Iruka was coming, too, a wave of unbelievable pressure breaking inside of him even though he didn’t have any seed left to spill. He focused on the pain in his shoulder, allowing it to ground him so he wouldn’t pass out from the raw pleasure, which seemed pretty likely if the spots dancing in his vision were anything to go by. 

Kakashi held himself up over Iruka, hands braced on either side of his head, and looked down at him with an expression of awe that, funnily enough, was bordering on startled. 

It was a minute or two before feeling came back to Iruka’s wrists and hands, but when it did, Iruka used them to rub Kakashi’s back soothingly. “Good?” he asked. 

Kakashi cracked a bewildered smile. “God, yes.”

Iruka laughed, but he abruptly stopped as Kakashi slid out of him. Oh, God. Well, he hadn’t had sex in a while, he should have anticipated that. He schooled his expression as much as possible, but Kakashi definitely saw his wince. He noticed everything, damn him. 

“It hurts?” Kakashi asked, head cocked to the side. 

Iruka smiled. “A little. But it’s totally worth it.”

“It’s not.”

Iruka shook his head. “I hit you.”

“That’s different,” Kakashi argued, looking down at his hands. 

“It’s not,” Iruka insisted.

Kakashi frowned. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Iruka. I lost control. I-,”

Iruka sat up, ignoring the minor pain he felt, and gripped Kakashi by the throat with one hand. He applied enough pressure to show Kakashi he was serious but not enough to actually be threatening. “Don’t do this.” Kakashi’s eyes went wide and his mind went quiet. Iruka knew it had. He responded better to a little physicality than he ever would to sweet nothings. “Listen to my words, Hatake Kakashi,” he instructed, “You have not hurt me in a way that I did not anticipate, nor in a way that I didn’t want. If you even so much as think about feeling guilt, I will fight you, for real, right now.”

Kakashi looked down into Iruka’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, windpipe not open enough for any louder volume. When Iruka narrowed his eyes, Kakashi began to wave his hands half-heartedly. “I’m sorry for not trusting you to know your limits. To know what you wanted. What you were getting into. All of it. I’m sorry.”

Iruka released his grip, relaxing against the headboard with his arms folded. “Your villain-complex is not very sexy, you know. It makes me feel delicate, and I’m not. I’m a soldier, same as you.”

“You’re not delicate,” Kakashi agreed easily.

“Yet you hesitate to let yourself go,” Iruka pointed out, but there was no real venom in his words. He was accusing Kakashi, but his tone was casual, as his mind and body were both still reeling from two axis-tilting orgasms. “You wanted to have sex with me, but you weren’t going to because you were afraid to.” 

Kakashi looked away, blushing. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t like to let go.”

Iruka sighed. “I know you don’t, but it’s me, Kakashi. You are allowed to want me. I’m your damn boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend,” Kakashi repeated, almost like he was testing out the word.

Iruka was suddenly self-conscious. “Well, yeah, of course. You live here, we have sex, you know, in an exclusive kind of way.”

Kakashi smiled and crawled towards Iruka, closing the distance between them. He sat, propped up against the headboard next to him and laid his head on Iruka’s shoulder. “You’re my boyfriend, Iruka,” he agreed sort of placatingly, which only made Iruka feel more embarrassed, “I’m just not used to that. Not used to this. It feels indulgent, careless.”

“You can be careless around me,” Iruka said, staring at his hands, “You know? It’s okay to let go, to not be guarded around me because I can protect myself, and I can protect you, too.”

Kakashi seemed to consider this for a moment. “Back then,” he began haltingly, like he was choosing his words with great effort, “When you visited me in the hospital before all this happened, you asked me why I came to you. And I said it was because I wanted you to care about me.” 

He was digging deep, Iruka knew, so he didn’t interrupt though he sorely wanted to. 

Kakashi was flexing his fingers as if reaching for invisible weapons. He chuckled derisively, and it seemed to diffuse some of the tension within him. “I was incredibly high on painkillers. I still can’t believe I just out and said that to you. But I meant it, and I’m sorry I haven’t let you.” He looked sidelong at Iruka. “Care about me, I mean.”

“I think, in your own way, you’re letting me,” Iruka said, “You let me patch you back up, you live with me in my apartment. I cook us meals. That’s a start. But you need more than physical care, you know.”

“I need to be able to let go,” Kakashi finished. 

“You need to open yourself up,” Iruka corrected, “You need to let yourself want things, physical or emotional, and you need to ask them of me.”

“It’s difficult.”

“I know it’s difficult,” Iruka agreed gently, “But you still have to.”

Kakashi seemed to consider this. He took Iruka’s hand in his. Then, in a whisper, he said, “I want you to stay.”

“Well, I’m not going to stay just because you want me to,” Iruka said. Kakashi gave him a startled look, which made Iruka chuckle. “I’m going to stay because I want to. Just because you want something from me doesn’t mean I’ll do it.”

Kakashi’s brow furrowed for a moment. Then, he smiled. “That helps.”

Iruka matched his expression, feeling incredibly fond. “I thought it might.”

And so it was that the sun rose on another day, albeit an entirely different day. The ice had melted a little bit more, the darkness receded another inch or so. Progress would be slow, the way it was in all things, but Umino Iruka knew that nothing worthwhile in life ever came easily, especially to him. All that mattered was that it would come at all, that Kakashi would come and come back to him. And he would be there, at the front door - or window, as the case may be - waiting for him to arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a wrap. Thanks to everyone who followed along, gave kudos, and sent me words of encouragement. I would not be doing this without your support! Stay tuned, as I'll be posting information about my next project to the end of this work! :D


	10. Preview: VanLudwig's "Don't Threaten Me With a Good Time"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When an investigation into a drug cartel takes a turn for the worse, Konoha's top spy must work alongside the mysterious and elusive Umino Iruka, a contract killer that Konoha's been trying to recruit for years. Iruka has his own reasons for laying low, just as Kakashi has his own motivations for trying to get close to him. But how are you supposed to get to know a man with hundreds of identities and the ability to change into any of them at will? If you're that man, how can you even claim to know yourself? 
> 
> "When I can become anyone or anything, make you believe a lie, make myself believe that same lie, then who's to say what's reality and what isn't? The only thing for certain is that nothing is for certain. The illusion is the only thing that you can count on to be real."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're looking for the last chapter of Careless, go back one!! It ends on chapter 9.
> 
> Thank you all for reading Careless! I'm currently in the process of writing the first installments for a brand new project called "Don't Threaten Me With a Good Time". It'll be another Kaka/Iru romance, an adventure AU of spies and espionage. Kakashi is a secret agent and Konoha's best marksman, while Iruka is the master of disguise helping blow open the drug cartel case with him. Naruto's involved in this one, as well, as Iruka's partner and younger brother. The following is an excerpt from the first chapter. I won't say more and risk spoiling the fun, but I hope you'll watch for me to publish it and give it a read!
> 
> -Van Ludwig
> 
>  
> 
> ________________________

“Who are you?” she demands.

“Hatake Kakashi,” he answers honestly, hands and weapon rising into the air, “Special Agent.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, dripping skepticism, “And why are you here?”

“Hired to investigate you. Higher-ups believed a major deal would go down today between you and the cartel, considering no one has hired their front for an actual catering gig so publicly before,” he lies smoothly, “Why did you do that, by the way? You had to have known. One bite of the foie gras and you know they’re criminals.”

Her eyes narrow, and she takes a step closer. “You know how I know you’re lying?”

“Tell me.”

“Your lips are moving.” She rams the barrel of her gun into his sternum, hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to injure. 

“You’re a real angel, you know that?” Kakashi says, feeling sort-of giddy, but he always feels like this after he kills, “Your husband is a lucky man.”

“Are you with the cartel?” she demands.

Kakashi snorts his laughter. “Hell no.”

“How do I know that’s the truth this time?”

“Lady,” Kakashi says, playing at exasperation, “You’re asking questions. I’m answering them.” He steps in, presses his chest to the barrel of her gun, and lowers his hands a fraction. “You know how you can know to trust me? I killed the men trying to kill you. I fired my gun over your shoulder, aiming not for you but for the people attacking you. That’s how you know.”

“It could be a trick,” she argued. 

Kakashi bites back the juvenile response and simply says, “Well, it isn’t.” He lowers his hands and holds his gun out on his open palm. “Take it.”

She does, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. 

“I’m still armed,” Kakashi says, “Two knives in my coat, one strapped to my leg, and another handgun in the waistband of my pants.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“So you’ll know the difference between me reaching for a weapon and me just wanting to put my hands in my pockets,” he explains, doing so. He makes no further movement. 

The bride watches him for a long moment, and Kakashi watches her back. She’s absolutely breathtaking to behold. Her dress is covered in flecks of blood, and her russet brown hair is tangled from when she tore her veil off. A flush of excitement dusts her delicately tanned skin, her make-up perfectly in place in spite of the violence. The curves of her face are soft and feminine, and she looks very young to Kakashi, perhaps only a few years over twenty. Compared to his own age, he knows he shouldn’t be allowing himself to wax poetic over her, but he cannot help himself. She is a vision of grace and fury in a white lace dress, and he is downright smitten. Shame all the good ones are taken.

She hands him his gun back, and he is careful to put it away slowly and deliberately. She turns, surveying the now-empty chapel with a calculating gaze. “My partner will meet us. We should go while we have the chance.”

“I’m going, too?” Kakashi asks, wondering when that was decided. 

“You have to. You’re in this with us,” she explains, quick and clipped. 

Kakashi’s heart stumbles over its next few beats when she takes his hand, and they are running down the stairs and out into the ambush that both of them knew would be beyond the chapel doors. There are several bodies of unfortunate wedding-goers, and Kakashi swears he sees remorse flash in the bride’s eyes before she is embroiled in a fist fight with what appears to be a chef, who had been hiding behind a shrub, waiting presumably for her to appear. Kakashi does not have time to come to her rescue as he barely has time to dodge the bullet aimed for his heart. It clips him in the shoulder as he moves to the side. He slips his hand behind his back for his second handgun and fires two shots, one from each. They both hit their target, and a man hidden in a tree falls to the earth like a stone. Kakashi repeats this process three more times, but he only gets hit one more time, whereas all of his targets were not nearly so fortunate. He turns to help the bride as she is wiping blood off of a blade onto her dress, which is torn in places and has attracted several more rust-colored stains. 

A black van comes speeding up the road, and Kakashi is poised for another conflict when the bride’s hand on his arm stops him. The van screeches to a halt, tires smoking, and the bride yanks open the side door and leaps in. Kakashi takes his cue quickly and follows, slamming it shut as they race off. 

“Good timing,” the bride remarks evenly, her chest heaving as she attempts to catch her breath (she does not, nor does she catch Kakashi’s stare). “Did you get a hostage?”

The groom nods his head towards the passenger seat, and Kakashi cranes his neck forward to glimpse the slumped-over figure of an unconscious man dressed in white. His apron and stupid hat indicates to Kakashi he had been posing as a chef. 

Kakashi had received a certain amount of intel for this mission, so he has a few puzzle pieces to work with. He knows that the cartel had been using a restaurant as a front to sell drugs and launder money, and his boss had been trying for months to prove it. They’d been close to succeeding many times, but Kakashi isn’t sure how Tsunade will take the news of the firefight at the altar. On one hand, it solidifies that the restaurant had been a front. On the other hand, Tsunade is a firm believer in subtlety, and it does not get much more unsubtle than gunfire and dead civilians.

Speaking of which. 

Kakashi raises a hand slowly, not wanting to alarm the edgy bride, but her mistrust seems to have worn off somewhat. She regards him with calm in her brown doe eyes. He clears his throat. “I wasn’t lying about being a Special Agent. Would it be inconsiderate to you both if I placed a phone call to my superior officer about this incident?”

The bride shakes her head at him, eyes still calm. "It's for the best if you call now."

Kakashi finds this strange. “Would it be problematic for you if I mentioned your involvement?”

“You won’t tell Tsunade anything she doesn’t already know.”


End file.
